Chance Encounter
by livyisnotfromtheshire
Summary: When famous millionaire Dean Winchester stumbles upon gorgeous, homeless Castiel, he wastes no time in taking him back to his apartment to shelter from the stormy night. As things would turn out, Dean rather enjoys having someone to come home to everyday. This makes his girlfriend Lisa and their public relationship pretty problematic. Destiel, fluff, first Supernatural fic. Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Hey guys! This fic was inspired by a video edit I did for my gayfandoms Instagram account, and a follower asked me to actaully write the AU, so here it is! It's still a working progress, and the first Supernatural fic I've uploaded, so please review! Thanks, hope y'all enjoy!

"So it's settled. No ones signing any papers until I get down there on Wednesday. No no, you've been very helpful. Alright, have a good weekend. Yeah, you too."

Dean Winchester hung up the phone and threw it back down on his desk, letting out a sigh as he ran a weary hand over his face. Working overtime to sort out his Boss' mess was not what he had planned to be doing on a Friday night, but there he was. For the second time that week he'd had to cancel his dinner plans with Lisa, and boy had he gotten an earful. She was sick of it, he was sick of it, but there was nothing he could do, he'd pleaded with her on the phone. He'd make it up to her, take her out at the weekend, buy her something nice. The only response he'd gotten was the click at the end of the line as she hung up.

Dean sat back down at his desk and began sorting through the numerous files piled skyscraper high, putting his girlfriend out of his mind. He glanced wistfully at the clock. One more hour...

Outside, thunder clapped, so loud it must have been right over the building. It didn't scare Dean, who was used to it by now. As his phone started ringing for the fourth time that hour, he stared out of the window. Rain was pounding down on the New York streets, a cold and bitter wind whipping through the city. He reached for the receiver, counting his lucky stars he wasn't caught out in the storm.

Meanwhile, tucked into the doorway of an old music shop, Castiel settled down for the night. As another flash of lightening illuminated the sky, he pulled up the hood of his sodden jacket, wiggled his numb toes around in his disintegrating sneakers, and leaned back into the doorframe, closing his eyes. By now he was used to the numbing cold, the stench of mouldy clothes, the hard concrete mattress. He was also used to the painful growls that his stomach emitted, just to remind him that he hadn't eaten that day.

Castiel sighed, giving his toes another squeeze as the next thunderclap sounded. It would be a while before he could sleep tonight, with the bitter breeze biting at him and the rain soaking into his shoes. What he wouldn't give for a blanket right now...

Of course, that was his own fault. He'd had a blanket, bought cheap at a thrift store with change he'd saved for over two months. It was a dark blue cotton one, long enough to wrap himself in and keep him a little warmer. God, he'd cherished that blanket. You needed one, living on the streets of New York in miserable October.

But of course he didn't have it for long. A week, that's all. He was looking for a place to settle down for the night, somewhere quiet and sheltered from the looming black clouds, when he'd seen her. A young girl, no older than twenty, with greasy ginger hair and dirty finger nails. He hadn't hesitated in handing over his one possession, insisting she keep it. The homeless girl had resisted, hesitated, and nodded a thank you before curling underneath the material, shrinking away from him. And so he'd walked on.

Which is why Castiel found himself without a blanket, huddled in a shop doorway, on the same night that Dean Winchester decided to get some pie before going home.

"Hey excuse me? Sir?"

Cas jumped, falling from the doorframe and struggling to stand and face whoever thought he was a sir. Dean Winchester stood in front of him, raindrops glistening in his hair and soaked shirt clinging to his skin. Cas took one look at him, and groaned internally. Great.

Dean cleared his throat. "I, er, I just wanted to ask if there was anything I could do for you, man, it ain't pleasant out here."

Cas' cheeks burned red and he cleared his throat, pulling his jacket tighter around him. "Thank you, but no. I'm pretty used to it all by now anyway."

Cas turned to settle down again but Dean didn't go away. He was looking at Cas with a pained expression, shifting his weight from one foot to another anxiously. He didn't appear to be leaving. Cas stated at him in confusion, until Dean finally broke the silence.

"You like pie?"

Cas frowned, unfamiliar with the icebreaker. "Um...yes?"

Dean nodded, seeming to make up his mind. "I'm gonna get you some pie."

At that, he turned and walked hurriedly away from Cas, who watched him go in disbelief. Out of all the strangers who could've found him stinking up an alleyway, it had to be multimillionaire Dean Winchester.

Ten minutes later, the man himself jogged back into the alley, carrying two wrapped pies and a grin on his face. "Cashier gave me one for free when I told her it was for you - c'mon, we'll eat in the car."

"Th-the car?" Cas frowned, not moving from his seat, smelling the pie and hearing his stomach cry out again.

Dean shrugged. "I'm not gonna buy you pie and then make you eat it out here. C'mon, I'm parked two blocks away."

"Look, Mr. Winchester-"

"You know who I am?"

Oh, Cas knew who he was alright. He'd seen the man's face on the billboards, been enticed by his smile in the papers, watched his interviews from crappy TVs in crappier bars. Who didn't know who Dean was, the man who had saved a billion dollar company from collapse at a mere twenty two years of age. When offered the position of CEO, he'd turned it down, settling for Manager of the Financial Department, where he'd stayed happily for the last five years. He was a mystery wrapped in an enigma, he was charismatic and charming, he was intelligent, witty, and shockingly attractive. Often seen on the front of the New York Times with his younger, and no less attractive brother Sam, who ran another successful business in the area, his face was a stranger to no one. Cas had found himself thumbing through papers on a Saturday morning, searching for Dean's smile, Dean's eyes twinkling back at him. As far as celebrity crushes go, Cas had a pretty big one.

Blushing, Cas nodded. "I've seen you in the paper a few times."

Dean smiled humbly and leaned forward. "Then it's not like I'm a creepy stranger trying to lure you to my van, I mean we're practically besties," he joked, and Cas couldn't help but grin.

Dean placed a hand on Cas' shoulder and pulled him gently to his feet. "C'mon. You don't deserve to be sitting out here alone on a night like this."


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thanks for the lovely support, guys!

It was warm in Dean's Impala, and to Cas the most comfortable place on earth. After months of sitting on nothing but damp concrete, the smooth leather interior felt like heaven. He burnt his tongue as he shovelled hot pie into his mouth, but he kept eating anyway. While he ate at a rapid pace, Dean sat beside him in the driver's seat, eating slightly slower and watching Cas with a smile on his face.

"When was the last time you had a meal?" He asked carefully, as Cas wiped his mouth with the wrapper.

Cas shrugged. "I don't know. I had two packets of crisps on Wednesday, and yesterday I managed to get toast from a coffee shop."

Dean sighed, shaking his head. "Look, man, I can't let you go and spend the night out there."

Cas smiled sadly. "It's fine, Mr. Winchester, I can look after myself."

"I have a spare room, dry clothes-"

"No, really-"

"I'm not leaving you out here."

"Mr. Winchester, please, I appreciate it but no."

Dean narrowed his eyes, pursed his lips, and suddenly started the car engine. "It's Dean." He said, and lurched the car into the busy road.

Cas fumbled to strap in his seatbelt. "What are you doing?!"

Dean rolled his eyes. "I told you, you can stay with me tonight. I'm not kicking you back out onto those streets, that's just cruel."

"Mr. Winchester, I could be a murderer or some sort of psycho, you don't know me."

"It's Dean, and I think I'll take that chance."

Cas shook his head, heart pounding at the turn of events. Essentially, he just been kidnapped by Dean Winchester, and truth be told he was struggling to keep a grin from his face. He couldn't take all this to heart - tomorrow he'd be back on the streets, just a memory to Dean.

As they drove through the late night traffic, Dean began to smile. "What's your name anyway?"

"Cas."

"Cas..." Dean rolled the name off his tongue, and Cas felt his stomach swoop. It had never sounded so beautiful. "Cas...I like that."

They sat in silence for a while, Cas trying to calm his heartbeat and Dean trying to focus on the road and not his passenger. He was in trouble, that's for sure. He'd known from the second he'd seen Cas' startlingly blue eyes that, one way or another, he'd take him home. Cas was indescribable, messy dark hair, soft pink lips, flushed cheeks and those eyes that made Dean temporarily dumb.

As he turned into his garage, he tried pushing any inappropriate thoughts of his guest from his mind. Lisa, Lisa, Lisa...

He parked the car and shut off the engine, turning to look at Cas. "So, welcome to my humble abode, I guess."

Cas smiled, looking around at the neat little garage. There was enough space for the Impala, a work bench, tools, and a small fridge in the corner. Cas moved over to the workbench, which was overrun with paper and pens and tools covered in grease. "You're a mechanic?"

"I like to consider myself as one, yeah," Dean said, locking the car and leading Cas to the door that opened into the laundry room. "My dad taught Sammy and I everything there is to know about cars. If I hadn't have found finance, I'd probably be a professional mechanic by now."

As Dean lead Cas around the apartment, showing him this room and that room, Cas was struck by the simplicity of it all. He had expected fountains and glass walls and indoor swimming pools, maids and butlers and a snooker room. It was nice, of course it was, with oak panelled floors and a flat screen TV, a handsome granite kitchen and a fantastic view of the city. But there was nothing about it that screamed millionaire. It was just an incredibly nice apartment, with a simplistic, relaxing design.

Dean saw Cas frowning laughed. "What's wrong?"

Cas shrugged. "Nothing I just...expected..."

"More?" Dean nodded, walking over to the fridge and pulling out two beers. "I get that a lot. But I like it here, I don't need anything else. Lisa wants me to move somewhere with a bit more, but I think I'm gonna stay here for a while yet."

Cas felt his heart sink a little. "Lisa, your..."

"Girlfriend."

"Right, of course." Lisa Braedon, a well off actress from Seattle, had been Dean's girlfriend for nearly a year and a half now. They'd been featured in magazines a lot, painted as the perfect couple, blatantly in love. No wonder Cas had blocked that from his memory.

"So, Lisa, does she live here with you?" Cas asked, looking around for any telltale signs, but there were none.

Dean shook his head. "No, we er, looked for a place together during the summer but never settled on anything. I like it simplistic, she likes to splash out on ice sculptures and indoor swimming pools," he chuckled, handing Cas a beer and taking a sip from his own. "We've reached an impass, I guess. We're not in a rush, anyway."

Cas nodded, and touched the bottle to his lips. Dean glanced at the clock, and signed.

"Man, it's later than I thought. Thank god it's Saturday tomorrow, I could use a lie in. Erm, you know where the bathroom is, take as long as you like. I'll get you some clean clothes."

As Dean moved, Cas reached out and grabbed his arm. "Dean, thank you. I really appreciate you letting me stay the night."

Dean smiled, a warm, tender smile that could melt butter, and Cas felt butterflies in his stomach. "I'm glad I could help."

And that's how Cas found himself showering in a millionaire's shower, wearing a millionaire's clothes, and sleeping in a millionaire's bed on a cold, stormy October night.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Since I got such a lovely response to chapter two, here's chapter three! Enjoy lovelies 3

Cas was woken by the sun's gentle caress, warming his face and making him smile. He stretched and yawned, feeling his sore muscles click and crack. It'd been too long since he'd slept on a proper mattress.

After another few minutes he sighed and sat up, swinging his legs out of the bed and rubbing his eyes. His heart sank when he thought about the dingy streets he would be returning to, where Dean Winchester would forget all about him and move on with his life. With another sigh, he stood and padded barefoot out of the room and into the hall.

"Ah, morning Sleepy Beauty!" Dean chuckled cheerfully from the kitchen, where Cas could see bacon spitting in a pan. "I thought I'd have to come and wake you up, you slept for so long!"

"What time is it?"

"Just past twelve. That's a full thirteen hours sleep you got, you good?"

Cas nodded, moving to help Dean at the counter. "I can't thank you enough, Dean, I don't think I've ever slept so well."

Dean smiled. "Well, I'm glad to hear it, man. You hungry?"

They ate a late breakfast of slightly charred bacon and eggs, and Cas insisted on washing up the plates, leaving Dean to shower. When Cas returned to the spare bedroom to pick up his clothes, he couldn't find them. He did, however, find a crisp white shirt, navy blue tie, black trousers and jacket. Nice, good quality clothes. Clothes that a homeless person couldn't dream of affording. Affection for the stranger in the other room swelled in his chest, and he swallowed it down. He couldn't get any more attached than he already was.

As he re entered the lounge, he overheard Dean on the phone.

"No I just...I don't know, Lisa, we've been arguing a lot recently and I think it's best if...see there you go again, blaming me and my job! I can't change the hours, Lisa...well I don't want the promotion, I'm happy where I am...I'm just saying, a weekend apart wouldn't do us any harm...ok, fine...yeah, you too."

He turned to see Cas leaning awkwardly on the doorframe, not sure if he was intruding. Dean shrugged, smiling. "Just Lisa, that's all. You can come in."

Heart sinking with every step, Cas walked forward. "Dean, I can't thank you enough for giving me a good night's sleep, and good meals. I really-"

"C'mon, Cas, it's ok," Dean patted him on the shoulder and Cas hated that his stomach swooped. "I just couldn't leave you out there, man," Dean continued. "There's something about you…"

Curious blue eyes met shy green ones, and for a moment neither of them could breathe. Cas' stomach did another somersault and he looked down at the ground. Dean probably thought he was a creep, staring at him all the time.

Surely enough, Dean cleared his throat awkwardly, cheeks a little red. Cas took the moment of silence to jump in.

"As I was saying, I'm very grateful. However, I think it's time I get out of your hair."

Oddly, a deep sadness overwhelmed Dean, a sadness that he didn't understand. He'd met the guy twelve hours ago, he didn't know him. And yet, he found himself saying "Actually I was kinda hoping you would stick around."

And so Cas did.

It took persuasion, of course; Cas didn't want to be a bother, he'd intruded enough, he would manage fine on his own. But Dean's offer to buy him a coffee on his way out turned into an afternoon of strolling New York streets, talking about everything and nothing. When the wind picked up and Cas began to shiver, Dean insisted on buying him a coat of his choice. After much moaning of how he really didn't have to, Cas settled on a cheap tan trenchcoat from a thrift store. Dean raised an eyebrow but Cas promised he liked it, and so Dean bought it.

A simple Saturday afternoon stroll was not, unfortunately, as simple as it should be. At about three o'clock, Dean was stopped for photographs and a quick interview by a journalist. How was business, what were his plans for the winter holidays, was he still with Lisa, who was the man in the trenchcoat-

"A friend," Dean said without hesitation. The woman raised her camera to snap a picture, but Dean pushed it down. "He doesn't want his photo in the papers. He's shy."

A similar incident happened again as the sun began setting and Dean started navigating them back to the apartment. A civilian stopped them and asked for a photo, proudly telling Dean how he planned to go into accounting when he finished school. Dean slapped him on the back, smiled, told him to follow his dreams, and dragged Cas away.

The sun began to set lower in the sky, and Cas noticed that they were walking in the direction of Dean's apartment. He stopped. "Dean, I've had a great day,"

"Me too!"

"But I'll leave you here."

Cas wondered how a human being could resemble a puppy so well. Dean's big green eyes filled with sorrow, and he looked wounded. "Cas, man, I want you to come back to the apartment with me. Please. No, just listen to me. I want to help you. I'm not kicking you back out on the streets after today, no way. You can stay for as long as it takes for you to get back on your feet, and I mean it. I can help you get a job, I can give you a place to stay. I can give you your life back, Cas. Please."

Cas frowned. "Why are you doing this? You barely know me, I could be a lunatic."

Dean smiled. "Well you haven't killed me yet." When Cas didn't smile back, Dean rolled his eyes. "Look, I like you, ok? I want to be your friend. And I guess I just can't leave a dark haired blue eyed boy out on the streets. C'mon. Let's go."

So Cas found himself living with millionaire Dean Winchester. That Saturday evening they ordered pizza on Dean's request, and sat at the laptop, job searching and doing some online shopping. Dean made sure that, if Cas was being a full resident, he had enough clothes to go around, at least three pairs of shoes, and practically forced Cas to pick something to decorate the spare room with.

"I'm not really one for decor, Dean," Cas grumbled as they scrolled through online furniture stores.

Dean rolled his eyes. "You do surprise me," he muttered sarcastically, clicking 'Add To Cart' on a full length mirror.

Cas frowned. "Well, what would you suggest?"

Dean pursed his lips. "You like art?"

"Yes." Cas shifted uncomfortably on the sofa, biting the inside of his cheek.

"Alright, let's hang a piece on one of your walls."

An hour later, Cas grabbed the mouse, unthinkingly placing his hand over Dean's, whose heart rate accelerated. Cas, however, had forgotten their proximity. "That one," he said, clicking on a picture of a painting.

It was titled 'Saving Grace', and was, simply, two hands. One reaching up from the bottom of the canvas, scratched and bloody, seeming to be reaching out of hell. The other, reaching down towards it from the top of the canvas, smooth flawless skin. Feathers, perhaps from an angel, fell down from the top of the canvas.

"It's beautiful," Cas smiled, leaning closer to inspect it on the screen.

Dean had to admit, it was a neat piece of art, but he didn't spend long looking at the screen. He watched Cas' face, the face of a stranger that he just couldn't seem to let go. His eyes wandered over Cas' soft skin, the light shade of stubble, the sharp, strong jawline. He looked at Cas' parted, pearly pink lips and had to remind himself that he was currently in a committed relationship. But it was Cas' eyes that truly held his fascination. He'd never seen so much emotion in one person. There was pain and suffering in those eyes, loss and heartbreak. However, if you kept searching, there was laughter and happiness and a curiosity that made Dean sure he could stare into those blue sapphires forever.

Cas, oblivious to Dean's staring, sat back and removed his hand from the mouse. "I like that one, Dean."

"Yeah?" Dean tore his eyes away from the other man to actually pay attention to the art. It was pretty stunning, he had to admit, and not as expensive as it should be. "Alright, man, you got it."


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Hi guys! Again, thanks for the great responses! In case you're all wondering, Sam will feature in this fic, but not for a while yet. I will also be going into Dean and Cas' backstories in a little more depth in the chapters to come, so please keep reading! This chapter is a little shorter but I'm uploading again later on today, so enjoy for now!

The next day, Cas' things arrived, and they got up early to spend a few hours sorting through his clothes, checking it all fit, and hanging 'Saving Grace' on the wall opposite the bed. When they were finished, Cas really couldn't help himself. He turned to Dean, the millionaire, the stranger he had an unfortunate crush on, and hugged him.

Dean, although a little taken aback, wasted no time in wrapping his arms around him and pulling him closer, heart pounding.

"Thank you, Dean," Cas mumbled, voice rough as he tried to hold back emotion.

Dean patted his back soothingly. "Hey, it's ok. Like I said, you can stay as long as you like. I'm just glad you're off the streets." He pulled away and pretended not to notice Cas wiping his eyes. "How'd you end up out there, anyway?"

Cas sighed, and rubbed the back of his neck. "I didn't get along with my family. They were...controlling. Robotic. It got to the point where they gave me a choice; to stay, and live out the life they had planned for me, or leave."

"So you left?"

Cas nodded, shrugging.

Dean frowned. "What life did they have planned for you? Was it that bad?"

"They wanted me to become a priest, and I didn't."

Suddenly, the phone rang. Dean pouted. "One minute." He ran out and grabbed it. "Hello? What? No, it's a Sunday, I don't take business calls at the weekend…..well I understand that….no, definitely not….alright, if it's that urgent….ok, I'll come in. Alright. Thanks."

He sighed and slammed down the receiver. Cas raised an eyebrow. "Problem?"

"I'll say." Dean walked over to the front door, where he'd kicked off his shoes the previous night, and started lacing them up. "Some douchebag at the office messed up the reports that have to be sent off by five this afternoon, deleted a whole bunch of them, I gotta go in to sort it."

He paused, pulling on his jacket, and considered Cas for a minute. "You wanna come?"

"Really?"

Dean shrugged. "Yeah, I mean….if you want to."

Cas grinned. "I'd like that."

It took Dean over three hours to fix the error that had occurred in his office. Three hours of trying to focus while Cas perched on the sofa, the desk, the windowsill, fiddling with anything he could find as he asked a million questions. He seemed incredibly interested in what Dean did, and how he had built up the company from ruins. And honestly, Dean loved it. He loved the sound of Cas' voice, the wrinkles in the corners of his eyes when he frowned, he loved how delicately his pale fingers handled the pen he picked up, the photograph of Sam and Jess, the snow globe of the Eiffel Tower. He'd known this man for a day and was already intoxicated. Great.

When they finally left the office, Dean had an idea. "Hey, Cas, how about I get you a job here?"

Cas's step faltered, and he turned to frown at Dean. "Here?"

Dean shrugged. "Well, yeah. It'd be easy, you could have any position you wanted, pretty much, and transport wouldn't be a problem since we live together."

Cas smiled slightly. "I don't think I'd fit in here, Dean."

"C'mon, people would love you."

"No, I mean I don't think my interests match."

It was Dean's turn to frown. "Why? What is it you want to do?"

They reached the Impala, and Cas sighed. "I like to draw."

Dean grinned. "You're an artist?"

Cas rolled his eyes and got in the car. "I wouldn't call myself an artist."

"You have to show me!"

"All my work was left at my family's house. No doubt they've had it destroyed."

Dean felt his heart sink. Cas tried to hide it, but it was easy to tell that he was devastated by the loss.

In an attempt to cheer him up, Dean slapped Cas' knee playfully. "Well, looks like you'll have to draw something for me. You can draw me, can't you, Jack?" He winked, starting the car's engine.

Cas frowned, utterly confused. "My name is Cas."

Dean laughed. "No, I know, I meant Jack from Titanic. That'd make me Rose." His cheeks turned slightly crimson, but Cas still seemed muddled.

"Dude, Titanic, the movie?"

Cas shook his head, and Dean raised his eyebrows in shock. "Oh man, I know what we're doing when we get home."


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: This is a bit of a filler chapter, haha, but the next chapter is being uploaded right now so keep your eyes peeled ;)

On Monday morning, Dean was already gone when Cas woke up. He'd left a note on the counter, telling him that he'd be home by eight and that the apartment was his for the day. There was plenty of food, but he could use the cash in the box under the armchair if he wanted to order anything.

Cas dressed slowly, slipping into a new sweater and jeans, and cautiously made himself a peanut butter sandwich. Once he'd eaten and cleaned the kitchen, he sat on the sofa and wondered what he could possibly do until Dean came home.

Immediately, he jumped up and began pacing. He shouldn't be waiting for Dean to arrive, it's not like he needed Dean to have fun, he wasn't that invested in the guy….

But he was, dammit. All weekend he'd watched Dean, listened to Dean, noticed the little things about him. The crush he'd harboured before they'd met had shaped itself into infatuation, and Cas was not happy about it. As if living with him wasn't difficult enough, Dean was with Lisa, and Cas didn't stand a chance.

In an attempt to push the millionaire with emerald eyes out of his mind, Cas wandered into Dean's office, the only room he hadn't yet explored. Like the rest of the house, it was simply decorated, but the cream and coffee colour scheme made it seem cosy, comfortable. It was easy to picture Dean sat at the desk, shoes kicked off by the door, tie loose, typing away on his laptop with Kansas blasting through the speakers.

Just as Cas was about to leave, he spotted a writing pad on the desk. He flicked through the pages, and saw it hadn't been used much. He pursed his lips, picked up a pencil, and settled himself down to draw.

He was drawing for so long, he didn't realise the sun going down until, quite suddenly, he realised it was too dark to see. Blinking, he glanced at the clock and crash landed back into reality. It was nearly eight o'clock.

Cas placed the paper and pencil hurriedly back on the desk and closed the office door behind him as he ran out into the kitchen, searching for something to cook. It seemed only fair that Dean have something to eat when he arrived, after working such a long shift.

When Dean opened the door of the apartment at ten past eight, he was greeted by the smell of cheese wafting through the air. A smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, he rounded the corner to see Cas setting down two plates of macaroni cheese on the breakfast bar. Noticing Dean, he smiled sheepishly.

"Hello Dean," he gestured to the steaming plates of food. "I cooked."

"I can see that," Dean grinned, dropping his bag on the sofa and crossing the room to settle on a stool. "You didn't have to, thanks Cas."

Cas simply smiled and sat next to him, asked him about his day, waiting nervously on a judgement of his cooking.

"So, what did you do today?" Dean asked, reaching for seconds.

Cas shrugged, playing with his food. "Nothing really, just sat here quietly."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "What, you didn't watch a movie or read a book?"

Cas just shook his head, taking his plate to the sink and running a bowl full of hot, soapy water.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Well, aren't you something. Hey, I got you something on my way home, it's in the car, I'll be right back."

Cas finished washing his plate, and washed Dean's too, and was about to put the leftovers in the fridge when the door opened and Dean returned, tripping into the room holding an easel and a bag. Cas ran to help him, mouth dropping.

Dean smiled. "Maybe this'll keep you entertained until I get home." He winked then, and Cas hated him for making his stomach flip. Why was he always winking?

Shifting his attention from Dean to the easel, Cas admired his new toys. The easel looked expensive, sturdy dark oak wood with an inscription on the bottom in gold. "Your Saving Grace." In wonder, Cas opened the bag Dean held, and gasped. It was brimming with paints, palettes, brushes, pencils, crayons…

"Yeah I didn't really know what to get so I just got all of it," Dean chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck anxiously. "I hope that's ok, there's some stuff in there that I'm not sure you'll use but I just thought-"

He was cut off by Cas throwing himself into his arms, smothering him in a tight hug. Dean returned the favour, winding his arms around the man and leaning into him, sighing contentedly. Cas was trembling, his head tucked into Dean's shoulder, and he wasn't letting go.

"It's ok, Cas," Dean muttered, rubbing his back and, if possible, squeezing him closer. "It's ok."

Tucked into Dean's embrace, Cas closed his eyes, scared to open them lest the tears begin to fall. This man, this stranger, had given him everything. A place to call home, someone to come home to, a second chance. Cas wasn't sure how else to communicate his gratitude, how to tell Dean what it all meant to him, giving him everything for nothing. And so he just clung to him, swallowing down the tears, feeling Dean's warm hand trace patterns into his back and wanting nothing more than for this moment to last forever.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Shorter chapter because I haven't had a lot of time, but tomorrow's chapter will be more action filled I promise!

The next few days passed in a blur of colour for Cas. The golden sun that woke him every morning, the blue of the sky, the grey rain clouds, the startling emerald green eyes he couldn't help himself staring into at every chance he got.

To distract himself from the loneliness that sunk in every time Dean left for work in the mornings, Cas set up a canvas on the easel, and had a painting finished by the time Dean returned in the evening. He'd wake up at the same time as Dean, shovel down some cereal, and get straight to it. Often he'd forget to eat lunch, fixated on sketching and painting.

His first piece was of the streets of New York in watercolours, full of greys and blacks and whites, rain bouncing off of umbrellas and faceless people hurrying to take shelter. Dean loved it, and said that since it was the first of many, it should be framed. Cas had disagreed, asking Dean to sell it for what he could, but Dean had looked at him like he was crazy and hung it above his bed.

The next day he sketched out the inside of his family church, using coloured crayons to capture the light shining through stained glass windows. He signed the bottom righthand corner, and Dean promised he'd find a buyer. The next day, the painting was gone, $100 in Cas' hand.

On Friday, Dean insisted that Cas meet him for lunch, to make sure he ate something. Cas had politely declined, but Dean wouldn't take no for an answer. So, during Dean's lunch break, they found a small cafe where Dean wouldn't be recognised, settling for sandwiches and milkshakes, Dean grinning like a lovesick puppy when Cas excitedly offered to pay.

Cas took another slurp of his milkshake, staring out of the shop window, oblivious to Dean, who was, once again, studying the finer details of his face. His strong jaw, the hint of stubble, those kissable lips and cosmic eyes. He cleared his throat, and to distract himself asked "So what's Cas short for, anyway?"

"Castiel," Cas replied, turning away from the window to stare intently at Dean.

Dean grinned. "Castiel? What kind of a name is Castiel?"

"A biblical one."

"I figured. You into all that God stuff, then?"

Cas sighed, and Dean wondered if he'd hit a nerve. He took a sip of his drink, waiting for Cas to reply.

"I used to be," Cas muttered, eyes retreating back to the window, watching the busy streets. "I used to have...unwavering faith. My whole family are very religious, so I was raised in it. To me, it seemed like all that was important was my faith."

Dean frowned. "But…"

"But...things happened that made me doubt God's existence. I started to wonder if I had put my faith in the wrong place, if God were really that important." Cas took a deep breath. "The things that happened to me...I thought, if God truly existed, and let it all happen, then I don't want anymore to do with him."

"And that's why you left," Dean realised, sympathy building in his chest. "Your family couldn't accept the change of heart."

"They didn't take it very well, no," Cas grumbled, and Dean had to fight the urge to lean across the table and take his hand. "What about you, Dean?" Cas asked suddenly. "Do you believe in God?"

Dean couldn't help but smile. "Y'know, I used to think how you did. I thought, if God is real, where the hell is he? Why is he just leaving humanity to rot? But, I had a few experiences, really amazing experiences, that made me think that maybe there is someone watching over me."

Cas cocked his head to one side, frowning, and Dean thought his heart would explode. "Experiences? Like what?"

Dean shrugged. "Er, I saved a billion dollar company from collapse, I guess that's pretty amazing. Uh, a few years back Sam and I were at this bar when someone started a fire. Whole building burnt down but Sam and I got out alive, and we shouldn't have - we were trapped, the only door out was locked, but somehow I kicked it down. Police said it was adrenaline, kicking down a heavy door like that when I've had no experience, but I'm not sure."

He took another sip of his milkshake, saw Cas was waiting for him to continue, and smiled. "Er, amazing experiences….I don't know, little things. Like finding the apartment I did right when I was looking for somewhere to move, winning $100 in a bet I was sure to lose, my brother and his wife moving closer to me after I'd been feeling homesick…."

He looked back up at Cas, those amazing eyes watching him with such intensity, that without thinking, Dean added breathlessly "Meeting you."

He saw Cas' eyes widen in surprise, and he looked down at his milkshake, face reddening. He really needed to remember he had a girlfriend. Then again, their weekend apart had stretched to nearly a week and he hadn't missed her once…

"I'm glad I met you too, Dean," Cas' voice made him chance a glance back up, and he was so glad he did. Dean was sure, in that moment, that Cas' smile could've lit up the whole world.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Three uploads in a day, aren't you all lucky :P The last two chapters have been kind of short and less action packed, so here you go, hope you enjoy!

Dean lay in his bed, early on Saturday morning, ignoring his phone buzzing on the table beside him. He knew what he'd have to deal with if he answered the call, and he'd rather not.

It'd been a week since he'd taken Cas off the streets and given him a place to stay, and Dean was struggling. He had to admit it, at least to himself; he had a crush on Cas. A pretty darn big one. It was stupid, denying it any further, letting it bubble under his skin until he did something he would regret.

He knew he should see Lisa. It'd been two weeks since he'd seen her, and even then they'd only shared angry texts and phonecalls. Dean sighed, running a hand over his face. Something had to happen, and he think he knew what.

Lisa had been frustrated with him for a long time now. She'd suggested they move in together for their one year anniversary but Dean had put it off, not wanting to rush. Six months later he gave in, but quickly realised that it was a bad idea. Something just didn't seem right. Lisa was brilliant; she was beautiful and funny and sexy and he did love her, he really did. But, he started to think that he wasn't ready to settle down.

And then Cas came along and everything went up in flames. He'd be happy never to talk to Lisa again, as long as he woke up to Cas' sparkling blue eyes and lopsided grin. Christ, he was in deep.

With another sigh, Dean rolled out of bed and padded barefoot to the kitchen, yawning and stretching. He could hear the shower running and knew Cas was up. He tried not to imagine him standing there, water running over his tanned, muscular figure-

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

Dean snapped himself out of his rather inappropriate thoughts, blushing and clearing his throat awkwardly, jogging to open the front door. "L-lisa?!"

"Hey, sweetie," Lisa smiled, leaning forward to press a kiss to his lips before walking past him into the apartment. "I thought I'd pop in and we could have breakfast together; you didn't pick up my calls?"

Dean shut the door and hurried after her, heart thumping. "I, er, must have my phone on silent." He grabbed her hand as she went to settle herself at the breakfast bar. "Look, I don't mean to be rude, but now isn't a great time."

Lisa frowned. "Why not?"

"I, er…." Dean grimaced, trying to wake up fast enough to think of an excuse. "Er, I have to work."

Lisa raised her eyebrows skeptically. "Work?"

"Yeah."

"Dean, what's going on?" She dropped her bag on the counter and turned to face him, glaring daggers. "I mean, what's really going on? One minute we're ok and the next you want to take a weekend off, then I don't hear from you all week and you're ignoring my calls? Have you met someone else?"

Dean rubbed the back of his neck anxiously. "Look, Lisa, I just need some space right now."

"What's her name?"

"Oh c'mon, Lisa-"

"Is she pretty?"

"No! Ok? There's no other girl, I promise!"

Lisa rolled her eyes. "Y'know, Dean, I'd really appreciate some honesty here." Her eyes narrowed and she cocked her head to one side, listening. "Is the shower on?"

"Er, it's faulty." Dean took her hands and drew her attention back to him quickly. "Lisa, all I'm asking for is some space."

Lisa sighed, reaching up and touching his cheek, voice a little softer. "And all I'm asking for is the truth. What are you hiding, Dean?"

"I'm not hiding anything, dammit!"

It was at that precise moment that the bathroom door opened, and Castiel walked out, towel wrapped around his waist, bare chest glistening, hair wet and tousled. Upon noticing that Dean had company, he froze, and met eyes with Lisa.

"Lisa?" Dean asked, who had his back to Cas.

Lisa turned red with anger. "Not hiding anything, huh?"

Dean turned around, and for a moment forgot how to breathe. Cas stood by the bathroom door, towel hanging dangerously low on his hips, water dripping off his chiselled chest, eyes wide, lips parted. And Dean simply couldn't tear his gaze away.

"Oh my god, I can't believe this!"

Dear jumped, startled back into reality, and turned back to face Lisa, who looked furious. "No wonder you want a break, you're screwing around with this guy!"

"W-wha-no-Lisa-"

"Jesus Christ, Dean, you cheated on me?!"

"No!" Dean reached out to her but she pushed his hand away. "Lisa, please, he's just a friend, he's staying with me this week-"

"Just a friend?" Lisa looked at him, insulted. "I'm not stupid, Dean! You want to go on a break and magically there's some guy in your apartment?"

"It's not what it looks like-"

"Like hell it is, you couldn't take your eyes off him."

To that, Dean had no response. Lisa laughed, a cold, empty sound, and picked up her bag, blinking back tears. "Lisa, I'm sorry, but we really are just friends."

Lisa shook her head sadly. "Then why did you hide him from me?"

Dean sighed, and bit his lip, because unfortunately she had a point. Lisa sniffed, wiping away tears that had seeped down her cheeks. She leaned over, kissed Dean's cheek, and glanced back at Cas. "You've never looked at me like that." She said sadly, voice wobbling.

Dean frowned, reaching out to put a hand on her arm. "Like what?"

"Like he hangs your stars and moon. Like he's the only person in the world to you." She looked back to Cas, gut wrenching. "You looked at him like you absolutely adore him. You're in complete awe of him."

Cas was staring at the interaction with confused, wide eyes, and Dean didn't know what to say, because what was the point of denying it now? Lisa took a deep breath, gave Dean one last, heartbreaking look, and walked out of the door, leaving nothing but a cold, empty silence in the apartment.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Howdy folks, I think you're gonna like this one ;)

"What...just...happened?" Cas asked, frowning at Dean, who was staring after Lisa, riddled with guilt.

"I…" Dean gulped, finally turning to meet Cas' gaze, and felt his eyes disobey his orders by sweeping once more over Cas' heavenly figure. "Um…" He managed to drag his eyes back up to Cas' and muttered "Nothing, me and Lisa broke up."

As Dean made a 360 turn into the kitchen and started making the coffee, Cas followed him. "But...what was that she was saying about me?"

Dean sighed, leaning on the counter wearily. "I don't know man, she saw you and thought I was cheating on her with you."

This helped Cas' confusion in no way possible. "But...I'm a male."

Dean rolled his eyes, grabbing a coffee mug. "Yeah, I noticed."

"Wait, are you…?"

"Pansexual, hi." Dean gave a sarcastic wave, and slammed the coffee mug down next to the whistling kettle. "She thought, because you walked out practically naked, that we'd…."

"Oh." Cas turned red, and took a step back. "Dean, I'm so sorry, I never meant-"

"Stop that." Dean growled, facing Cas and managing, this time, to make eye contact. "I should've told her, it's my fault."

Cas was shaking his head, looking guiltily at the floor. "I should go."

"Hey, no way." Dean reached out and grabbed him by the shoulder, preventing him from retreating back into his room. "You're staying. This isn't your fault, and honestly, I was gonna break up with her anyway."

"You were?"

Dean nodded, eyes checking out Cas again before letting him go and taking up his coffee. Cas's nose twitched a little, he looked back down at the floor, mumbled an "Ok" and went to get dressed. Dean bit his lip, frustration coursing through him as he watched the muscles rippling in Cas' back. God, what he wouldn't give to have his way with him for just five minutes….

Cas pulled a shirt over his head, trying to organise his thoughts. So, firstly, Dean was single. Single. Available. Secondly, and quite importantly, he was pansexual. Meaning that, if he was interested, Cas actually stood a chance. Oh, how that made his insides squirm, with excitement or nerves, he wasn't sure which.

And what was that Lisa had said, about Dean seeing him as the only one in the world? Something about stars? Cas' heart missed a beat. Was there any truth in that, or was it her jealous mind twisting things? Probably, but after all he'd been through, he thought he was entitled to hope.

Because Castiel was falling terribly in love with Dean Winchester and he couldn't do anything to stop it. He'd tried, oh how he'd tried, but a simple celebrity crush had spiralled out of control and now the thought of losing what he had with Dean after one long week made Cas nauseous. Cas needed Dean, this incredible stranger who had a changed his life and set him on a path worth walking. There was something about the man in the suit that set Cas on fire; what kind of man offers up his home to someone he's never met?

So Cas dressed, paced his room for a while, and decided to put it aside and think about the present. Dean was clearly upset at how things had ended between him and Lisa, and Cas should be there for him, as a friend. He owed Dean that.

When he returned to the living room he found Dean lounging on the sofa, still in his pyjamas, half drunk coffee in one hand and tv remote in the other, absentmindedly flicking through the channels.

He saw Cas and sat up, muting the tv and smiling a sad little smile. "Hey."

Cas ignored the stupid warm feeling that spread through from his chest to his toes as he sat down next to him. "Hey."

Dean cleared his throat, and looked over Cas' head at the window. Cas followed his gaze, and saw that it was raining. "I guess we aren't going out today," Dean said thoughtfully, and Cas shrugged.

"Did you have plans?"

Dean nodded, setting his coffee mug down on the coffee table. "I was gonna take you to an art gallery but it's kinda gloomy out there."

Cas' lips twitched into a coy smile, and took a shot. "Well, we'll just have to find some other way of entertaining ourselves, won't we?"

Dean raised an eyebrow, smiling. Was Cas...flirting? Since he had nothing to lose, Dean let his eyes roam slightly as he replied "I can think of a few things." and felt a sense of satisfaction when he saw a blush creeping up the collar of Cas' shirt. Shaking his head, chuckling to himself, he stood up. "I'm gonna get dressed." He walked away, resisting the temptation to ask Cas if he was coming with.

They decided that just because it was raining they shouldn't waste a Saturday staying inside. So they donned their coats, argued over whether they should take an umbrella - "It'll stop in a minute, we don't one!" - and went to visit an art gallery.

Cas was ecstatic, running from painting to painting, sculpture to sculpture, babbling on to Dean excitedly about the artist in question, or the technique used, or how the colour scheme emphasised the meaning. Dean nodded, following him around like a puppy, not really listening. He was watching the way Cas' eyes came to life at each piece, how his brow furrowed as he examined the art, how every now and then his tongue would dart out and lick his lips.

They stayed at the gallery all day, going from room to room admiring the work, eating lunch at the tiny cafe on the third floor. Eventually, Dean pointed out that they should start heading home, since it was getting dark and the gallery would be closing soon. With a sigh, Cas nodded, and they left.

Of course, it was still raining heavily, and Dean We-Don't-Need-An-Umbrella Winchester had made them walk, since it wasn't far. So they ran home through the rain, practically racing each other back to the apartment, grinning like idiots.

They tumbled through the door, laughter replacing the silence of the apartment, tripping over each other as they hurried to close the door on the bad weather. They weren't sure what was so funny - the irony of not taking an umbrella on such a rainy day, the fact that they'd raced each other through the downpour, or the ridiculous situation of being unable to single handedly remove the clothing that was plastered to them.

Still chortling like idiots, they kicked off their shoes, managed to unstick their socks from their feet. However, their numb fingers were hopeless at peeling the sodden shirts off of their backs, which only escalated their laughter so that tears ran down their cheeks.

"H-here…" Dean gasped, attempting to control his laughter as Cas writhed around, arms tangled as he tried to pull the wet shirt over his head.

Dean stepped forward and grabbed the hem of the shirt. "Put your arms up," he chuckled, and Cas did as he was asked, trying to ignore Dean's hot fingertips on his skin.

Slowly, and with great effort, Dean managed to coax the tight shirt up over his shoulders and, with a bit of wriggling, over his head. Cas pulled his arms out and let the shirt fall to the floor, sighing happily at finally being rid of the thing.

Dean would've kept laughing, only now Cas was stood topless in front of him for the second time that day, wet hair standing up on all ends and chest rising and falling gently, muscles rippling under the tanned skin.

Dean's unsubtle gazing didn't go amiss, and Cas raised an eyebrow. His people skills were rusty, but there was no doubting that Dean was checking him out, eyes wide and lips parted. A million thoughts raced through his head, but he didn't know what to do and Dean wasn't looking away. That was when Cas saw it, the awe that Lisa had claimed Dean stared at him with. It was the same awe that Cas had looked at the paintings with, an awe that took Cas' breath away. No one had ever looked at him like that before.

Without saying a word, Cas stepped forward, taking the hem of Dean's wet shirt in his hands. Dean jumped, startled, and met Cas' eyes. Slowly, hesitantly, he raised his arms above his head and let Cas tease his shirt off of him, fingers skimming the bare skin of his chest, white hot. The shirt fell to the ground, and silence fell around them as Cas let his eyes roam over Dean's stunning figure. Eventually, his eyes made their way to Dean's and they stared at each other. They weren't laughing anymore.

He wasn't sure where this new streak of bravery had come from, but he wasn't going to wait for it to disappear. Hand shaking ever so slightly, Dean reached out and traced the shadow of Cas' collarbone with his fingertips, hearing Cas' breath hitch.

Dean's touch burned on his skin, and for a moment Cas couldn't think. Dean's hand moved from his collarbone down his chest, tracing patterns into his skin, and stopping at the waistband of his jeans. Without thinking, Cas placed his hand on Dean's chest, feeling him shudder under his touch. His hand moved slowly, memorising Dean's chest and hips and neck and shoulders.

"You're beautiful," Cas breathed, placing his other hand on Dean's shoulder and trailing it down his arm.

Dean's heart was beating at an impossible rate, hands trembling on Cas' skin, trying to keep his head as Cas' hands drifted over his chest. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, although what was the point in repressing himself now? Cas thought he was beautiful, and that was all that mattered.

"Dean."

Dean opened his eyes and there he was, blue eyes sparkling with fear and awe and hunger, and there was no way Dean could resist any longer. He leaned forward, pulling Cas towards him, and kissed him.  
It was better than either of them had imagined, of course it was. And they had imagined it, how it would feel, the taste, the smell, the sensation of finally touching, kissing, being with each other. But this felt greater than anything either of them had ever experienced. It was fire and ice and fireworks and stars and flowers and sunshine and a million other things. It was addictive, and when they pulled away for air they barely gave themselves time for one breath before diving back in, hands travelling over their skin, pulling themselves closer together, closing any distance.

They stumbled over to the sofa, tripping over their feet, lips still locked and hands still exploring. They bumped into the arm of the couch and Dean moved his lips to Cas' neck, eliciting a gasp from his partner, who threw his head back, giving Dean easier access.

They fell onto the sofa, Dean straddling Cas as he trailed kisses down his neck and over his collarbones. Cas ran his fingers through Dean's hair and closed his eyes, breathing shallow, unable to comprehend that this was happening, that Dean Winchester was kissing his neck and pressing him into the sofa cushions, hands on his hips.

Cas reached for Dean, pulling his face up so that he could taste his lips again, tongues fighting for dominance. Cas ran a hand up Dean's thigh, heard him moan, and knew that he had him. Cas pushed kisses across his lips, his cheek, his neck, his chest, hand drawing circles on his thigh, all the time muttering the same word over and over and over. "Beautiful….beautiful….beautiful…."

Dean was intoxicated by it all, addicted, unable to decide if he wanted to kiss Cas' lips or chest or hips. So he sat there, straddled over Cas' lap, head on his shoulder, simply trying to breathe as Cas made him shudder at a mere touch.

Dean couldn't remember how, but suddenly the rest of their clothes were on the floor and he was staring into Cas' eyes, cheeks flushed, breathing heavy. Cas nodded, pulling him further into the cushions, closing his eyes.

And that's how Dean found himself sleeping with an artist on a stormy October night in New York City.

A/N: You're welcome ;) Honestly I'm a bit unsure with this one, it's pretty soon to have them sleeping together, but I couldn't resist. Also important notice, not only have I hit writer's block but due to exams and school things I can't update again until Wednesday. I'll see you then, leave a review on your way out 3


	9. Chapter 9

The fire crackled in the grate, casting a dim orange glow over the dark lounge and warming the two figures that lay together on the sofa, wrapped in a blanket.

Aside from the noise of the fire, all was quiet. Dean and Cas lay in the darkness, chests rising and falling gently, Dean's hand lazily drawing patterns on Cas' arm. Cas lay with his back against Dean's chest, and held Dean's spare hand with one of his own.

They hadn't said anything for a while, and Cas thought he rather liked the silence. They'd needed the time to get their heart rates down, breathing under control, because what they had done had left them both breathless. Neither had spoken as Dean, still panting, had pulled Cas against his chest, tucking the blanket around them. Because what was there to say? For a long time afterwards, as they were still coming down from the high, Cas was sure he was incapable of speaking.

Dean, on the other hand, had other thoughts running around his head. He was exhausted, after the long day at the gallery and then spending the night with Cas, but still, after all that, he was fighting the urge to press scalding kisses to the other man's neck, to let his hands continue their exploration of his body. Sadly, his body wasn't listening to his brain, as he could feel his eyelids drooping and his hand on Cas' arm slowing.

In an attempt to fight off sleep, Dean cleared his throat, and nudged Cas with his leg. "You asleep?"

Cas shook his head sleepily, and Dean felt his toes curl against their entangled legs.

"You alright?" Dean asked, giving their linked hands a squeeze.

Cas sighed again, a happy sigh. Dean's voice was low and husky, tired and worn out, and Cas loved it. He cleared his own throat and tried to wake up a little. "I'm...very, very happy," he decided. "Are you alright, Dean?"

Dean chuckled. "Yeah, Cas, I'm on cloud nine." Sensing Cas' confusion, he smiled and turned to bury his head into Cas' neck a little, and couldn't resist planting a kiss there. "I'm happy, Cas, I'm really happy."

It fell quiet again, the fire throwing shadows in the wall as they dozed, not awake but not quite asleep either, in a state of pure contentment. Dean thought about moving into his room, where they would have a full king sized bed to cuddle in, but then Dean also thought about how in order for that to happen he would see Cas again, in all his naked glory, and swallowed. Maybe not.

He shifted a little under Cas' weight, ducking his head down to press more kissed to Cas' neck, nose grazing the skin, just because he could now. Cas opened a bleary eye and turned to meet Dean's soft lips with his own, tentatively at first, but when Dean cupped his face with his hand he parted his lips and relaxed into the kiss. He couldn't remember feeling this happy before.

Dean pulled back to squint through misty eyes at Cas, who frowned back. "It just occurred to me..."

"Mhmm?" Cas didn't seem too interested, planting sleepy kisses across Dean's jaw.

"Well, I mean, how long have you been...interested in me?"

Cas stopped and looked up at Dean, blushing a little. "You were my celebrity crush for about six months before we met."

"No kidding?!"

"Yeah," Cas grinned and moved to kiss Dean's neck, who smiled.

"Wow, I didn't know. I didn't even know you like me back until...well,a few hours ago."

"So how long were you interested in me?" Cas muttered against Dean's skin.

Dean shrugged. "Since I saw you in the alleyway."

That made Cas focus. "Dean Winchester, you didn't rescue me from the streets with the intention of putting me to bed, did you?"

It was Dean's turn to blush. "I didn't think it would actually happen!" Cas laughed, and nodded. "Me neither. I thought you were set on Lisa..."

"I was, but then I met you."

"It's strange, isn't it?" Cas sighed, wrapping an arm around Dean shyly. "It feels like I've known you forever."

"It's only been a week." Dean muttered. "Hey, Cas, I don't know your last name."

"Novak."

"Is your family in town?"

"No, they live in Illinois."

Dean pouted. "I don't know very much about you."

Cas shrugged, heart sinking a little as he said "I'm not that interesting."

Dean rolled his eyes. "I don't believe that for a second." He shifted, wriggling further under the blanket and pulling Cas a little closer. "Tell me about yourself, Cas."

So Cas explained how he had grown up in Illinois as part of a very large, very religious family. He had looked up to his older siblings, particularly Anna and Michael, who had more or less raised him and his younger siblings. He talked about having a distant father, how he couldn't remember his mother, who had died very suddenly after his little brother, Balthazar, had been born. He told Dean about being fairly lonely, never really making any friends outside his family, getting perfect school grades, arguing with his father over his wish to go abroad to study art. However, in the end it wasn't his father's disapproval that had prevented him from going, but his brother Gadreel. Gadreel, only two years older, became the victim of a mugging gone wrong, and didn't survive to tell the tale.

"I'm sorry, Cas," Dean muttered, rubbing his arm soothingly.

Cas shook his head sadly. "Gadreel had moved away from the family years before, my father was furious with him, and remains to be to this day. He refused to attend the funeral."

Dean sighed and pressed his forehead against Cas'. "I'm glad you moved away from them."

Cas smiled. "I doubt my father would attend my funeral if I died now. We didn't part on good terms, as you know."

"How long ago did you leave?"

"Three years ago. My money ran about six months in, so I've been moving around ever since. I've been in New York for nearly five months now, and I like it here."

"Do you think you'll stay in New York?" Dean asked, heart fluttering at the thought that maybe Cas would be leaving.

Cas grinned. "I think I can find a few reasons to stick around."

Dean smiled, eyes closed and nose grazing against Cas'. "Oh good, 'cause word on the street is that there's a millionaire who has a huge crush on you."

"Oh really?"

"Apparently."

"Is he good looking?"

"Very, and like I said he's a millionaire so..."

"You'll have to introduce me."

They laughed together, and that was the last thing they did before they fell asleep, curled up under the blanket and warmed by the fire, their dreams filled with the kisses that had been shared that night.


	10. Chapter 10

Cas woke shivering on the sofa, blanket wrapped around him like a cocoon. Rain pounded heavily on the windows, and the wind howled, asking for someone to let it in. Cas squirmed, wriggling his toes and pulling his knees up to his chest in an attempt to keep warm. He frowned, nose wrinkling, as he tried to sort through his foggy thoughts, pushing sleep away. He had to get up, there was something important….

"Hey stranger."

Cas started awake, scrambling to get into a sitting position, and blinked at Dean, who was standing over him with a grin on his face, fully dressed. His voice was coated with a morning husk that Cas hadn't had the privilege of hearing yet; it brought back memories of the night before that made Cas blush a deep red.

Seeing this, Dean chuckled and crawled onto the sofa with Cas, pushing him gently into the cushions and kissing him softly on the lips. Cas wasted no time in responding, grabbing a fistful of Dean's sweater and pulling him closer. Dean sighed into the kiss, butterflies racing in his stomach, and he pulled away.

"How're you feeling, Cas?"

Cas blinked again, and attempted to sort through his thoughts and settle on a feeling. After a moment of consideration, he said "Overwhelmed."

Dean nodded, and sat back a little, giving Cas more space. "That's ok. We can talk now, or later, or never. Whatever you want."

Just as Cas was about to respond, his stomach growled rather loudly, and Dean laughed. "Maybe after breakfast." He reached out, eyes soft, to run a hand through Cas' hair, before getting up and walking to the kitchen. "Go get dressed, I'll cook."

The realisation hit that the reason Cas was so cold was the fact that he was stark naked, bar the blanket. As Dean set to work in the kitchen, Cas wrapped the blanket around his middle and tiptoed into his bedroom, hurriedly pulling on warm clothing and listening to the wind howling outside.

"Cas, food's up!"

How was Dean so calm? Cas wondered as he sat down at the table. Sure, Cas was on cloud nine after spending the night with him, but his head was pretty scrambled. What had it meant to Dean? Were they now dating? Partners? Was he just a rebound for Dean's loss of Lisa? They had broken up only hours before….

"What're you thinking about?" Dean asked softly, nudging Cas gently under the table with his foot.

Cas shook his head. "Nothing."

Dean sighed. "Do you wanna talk yet? You probably have questions, I know I do…"

Cas shrugged. Honestly, he didn't know what he wanted. What if the answers Dean gave were the opposite to what Cas wanted to hear? What if Dean told him that it wouldn't happen again? What if Lisa turned up and Dean took her back? What if-

"Just one thing, then, if you're still thinking," Dean spoke up, and cleared his throat a little. He waited for Cas to look up and meet his gaze before continuing.

"I didn't just use you for sex, or as a rebound for Lisa." Cas felt the tightness in his chest relax a little, and he sighed with relief. Dean kept talking. "I know it looks pretty bad, sleeping with you on the same day I broke up with her, but that's not how it is, I swear. I mean, like I said last night, I've liked you since I met you and last night I just…" Dean chuckled. "I couldn't resist anymore, y'know? Seeing you topless twice in one day kinda threw me."

Cas laughed, and found himself blushing again. Dean's smile widened, and his eyes lit up. "God, I don't half love it when you laugh."

They shared a moment of silence, in which Cas reached across the table to touch Dean's hand with his own. Feeling a little less overwhelmed and a little more like he'd won the lottery, he linked their fingers together across the table, raising his eyebrows as Dean sighed happily.

"Is there anything you want to talk about?" Dean asked, blushing slightly.

Cas licked his lips nervously and decided to ask the most important question. "What happened last night….do you think….will it happen again?"

Dean smirked, Cas' hopeful blue eyes searching his own, and he stood up, dropping their hands and walking over to Cas' side of the table. He leaned down, grabbing a fistful of Cas' sweater, and kissed him, tongue pushing Cas' pale lips apart and exploring his mouth. He felt Cas' hands go to his hips and pull him down closer, and so Dean, always a tease, pulled away, biting Cas' bottom lip gently as he did so. He put his lips by Cas' ear, grazing the skin.

"Only if you behave," he said, and Cas almost - but not quite - groaned out loud. Dean stepped back, winked, and walked over to the kitchen, filling a glass full of water, leaving Cas red faced and breathless at the table.

Cas decided to spend the rest of the day thinking, and as he thought, he drew. He sketched his old home, the large manor house with iron gates by the front. He drew two faceless lovers, sleeping on a couch that looked a little too much like Dean's in front of a fireplace that also looked a little too much like Dean's. He drew what he thought New York would look like when it snowed, streets empty, Christmas light glowing.

Dean wandered over from his office at some point and rested his chin on Cas' shoulder, watching him for a minute before Cas turned his head slightly and asked him what he wanted.

Dean smiled, and held up the pad of paper that Cas had drawn in nearly a week ago on his first day alone. "You didn't tell me you drew in this."

"I'm sorry, I forgot." Castiel hadn't in fact, forgotten - but he wasn't going to admit that he was embarrassed.

Dean flipped open a page and his own face stared out at him in pencil, soft grey lips parted. On the next page, it was his side profile, and the next page was his full body, dressed in the suit that he had been wearing when they had met. The next few pages continued in the same way, sketches of Dean pulling this pose or that.

"I was just practising." Cas mumbled, face burning red as he tried to focus on his current drawing rather than let Dean embarrass him with his old ones. But, apparently, Dean was having none of it.

"Cas, these are incredible."

"They're just rough sketches."

"No I mean it!"

"So do I."

Dean rolled his eyes and dropped the paper to the floor. Cas turned around at the sound, but Dean had already moved, taking his current sketch away and placing it on the coffee table.

"Dean, what-"

But Cas didn't get to finish his question, and quite frankly he didn't need to. It was pretty obvious what Dean was doing when he crashed their lips together, straddling his hips and making the sofa cushions sink.

This time Cas really did groan out loud, hands pulling Dean closer, trying to keep his head as he felt Dean bite his bottom lip. He felt Dean's hands slip under his sweater and shivered at the touch.

Dean moved to kiss Cas' neck, rocking his hips ever so slightly and grinning when Cas moaned, head arched back. He planted another kiss and sat up, to Cas' dismay. "Dammit, Cas, what do I have to do to convince you that I really do like your art?"

Cas shrugged. "This works well." Dean's laughter filled the room and Cas kissed him with swollen lips, hands tugging at the hem of his sweater.

"Wait wait wait wait wait, Cas," Dean panted just a few minutes later, after Cas had successfully removed Dean's sweater and was letting his hands roam. "Cas, it's getting late, we should have dinner first and then afterwards we can...uh…"

Cas frowned. "You want to stop and eat?"

"I'm just saying, it's already in the oven, I don't wanna burn the place down..."

"So turn the oven off." Cas muttered, tracing a finger down Dean's spine and making Dean forget how to breathe, so much so that he had to gasp for air when Cas kissed up his neck and bit his earlobe softly.

"C-cas, c'mon," Dean squeezed his eyes shut as he felt Cas' hand moving up his thigh. "If we eat we'll have a lot more energy."

Cas rolled his eyes and clambered not so gracefully off of the millionaire. Both of them sat there for a minute, calming down, getting their breath back, trying not to think of what they could be doing right now if it weren't for the food bubbling in the stove.

They rushed through dinner, burning their tongues on the food that was straight out of the oven. Once they had eaten their full and watered down their scolded mouths, Cas stacked their plates in the dishwasher, butterflies in his stomach, feeling Dean's eyes on his back.

Dean was standing by the door of his bedroom, waiting. Cas wasn't the only one who was nervous; Dean's legs had turned to jelly. It was one thing to go at it in the heat of the moment, no discussion or talking or thinking involved, but to plan it, to know that in a few minutes they'd spend the night together again….well, Dean decided he preferred the no talking kind of intimacy.

Nevertheless, he reached out, offering his hand to the man standing in his kitchen. Cas walked over and took it, wondering for a moment at how they seemed to fit perfectly. Dean tugged them into his room and kicked the door shut quickly, pushing Cas down gently onto the memory foam mattress.

Afterwards, they lay in silence, moonlight streaming through the small window and casting a silver glow around the room. Dean lay on his front, one arm slung lazily over Cas' chest, head nuzzled into his neck. Cas himself was staring at the ceiling, listening to his partner's breathing, wondering why he had slept with him again even though he hadn't quite got his thoughts in order about the first time.

He was happy, definitely; Dean was, naturally, the perfect lover, and Cas seemed to get the impression that he wasn't that bad either. The thing that Cas was struggling with was putting a name to it. They weren't boyfriends, as far as he knew, they weren't even dating, but it didn't feel like casual sex. The way Dean said his name, the way Dean sometimes stopped just to look him in the eyes with that awe...it wasn't casual. The cuddling afterwards certainly wasn't either, with Dean's finger trailing down Cas' side, letting him know that he was ready to go again, if Cas wanted to.

This time, they didn't talk. They fell asleep together, bathed in moonlight, not too sure what would happen when they woke up the next morning.


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: Sorry about the lack of updates, hella busy, hope y'all enjoy.

The lovers woke up early, at around the same time, and smiled at each other. Dean reached up to touch his fingers to Cas' lips, laughing as Cas caught them playfully in between his teeth.

After a while, Dean remembered that it was a Monday, and sighed, rolling out of bed. As he stumbled around the room searching for fresh clothes he talked to Cas, who watched him from the sheets.

"I have a radio interview this afternoon so I can't meet you for lunch," he called out from his en suite, toothbrush hanging from his mouth. "But I'll be home earlier, about five, so don't go out."

"Ok."

"I'll grab some burgers on my way home, if that's alright with you."

"Yeah, sure."

Eventually, Dean was ready to go, and running late no less. He grabbed his briefcase and car keys, and hovered by Cas' side. Cas smiled up at him sadly, wishing he would just call in sick and come back to bed.

"We'll talk when I get home, if you want to." Dean said softly, and he leaned down to kiss Cas on the mouth. It was a gentle, lingering kiss, and Cas sighed when Dean pulled away and jogged out the door. He heard the front door slam, and curled back into the duvet, shivering in the cold silence.

At noon, Cas set up his easel and started painting, the radio crackling in the background. He was working on a painting of a beach at sunset, missing his younger years when Gabriel had driven them all down to the beach against their father's wishes, making sand castles and feeling the waves wash over his skin-

" _And this afternoon we're joined by the man himself, Dean Winchester!"_

Cas' ears pricked and he set down the paintbrush, rushing to sit by the radio on the couch.

Dean's voice chuckled through the speaker. " _Hi there!"_

" _Thanks so much for agreeing to come on the show, Dean, we love having you here."_

" _It's my pleasure, man, I love this station."_

Cas could almost see him sitting there behind the desk, tie loose, headphones on, smiling at the interviewer.

" _So, how're you? How's life, what's been going on with you recently?"_

" _I'm good, Rufus, I'm really good. Things are pretty much the same, a few changes here and there but…"_

" _Good, good...and how's Lisa? How's she doing?"_

Cas gulped, mouth suddenly very dry.

" _Lisa...Lisa is good...we, er, we actually broke up just recently."_

" _No!"_

" _Yeah, this weekend actually."_

" _Oh my god, you kept that quiet! Are you alright, I mean-"_

" _No yeah yeah I'm fine, I'm good. I actually think it was the best thing we could do in our situation, y'know?"_

" _What happened, it looked like you guys were pretty keen on settling down?"_

Dean made an audible sigh, and Cas licked his lips nervously.

" _I don't know, man, I think we just drifted apart, among other things. I work long hours, y'know, and we had really different interests too. I mean, we tried finding a house together during the summer but we just couldn't agree."_

" _Yeah, I think it's pretty well known that she's got an expensive taste."_

Dean chuckled. " _Yeah you could say that. I prefer a more simplistic style myself, but, er, yeah we just came to an end."_

" _I gotta say, the media had you two branded as the perfect couple. You don't seem too upset to see her go, were you on good terms?"_

" _I mean the break up could've gone better, but it's never an easy process. And there's no hard feelings, I wish her the best in what she goes on to do. But with the job I have, and the people I've met recently, the flame kinda died. I didn't see the point in sticking with it."_

" _So, Dean Winchester is on the market!"_ There was laughter throughout the studio, and Cas rolled his eyes, gritting his teeth and returning to his canvas. The radio continued to mumble in the background.

" _You've not got your eye on anyone then, Dean? I mean I know it's soon, but are you looking for a relationship or focused on work or…?"_

" _I er…"_ Dean cleared his throat and gave a nervous laugh. " _I'm actually kind of seeing someone now, I think."_

The interviewer whistled. " _Wow, that's pretty quick!"_

" _Nah, I liked them before I broke up with Lisa, one of the reasons I did, and I don't know, I kind of have to thank Lisa, in a way."_

" _What for?"_

" _Well it was Lisa who got me to admit my feelings. She could see that I was into this other person, and that it wasn't just a...a stupid crush, y'know? She let me be with the person I want to be with, and I'm very grateful to her because I'd been struggling with my feelings for a while and I felt terrible about it, but…"_

" _So you're still single, but you've got an interest?"_

" _Yes, that's right."_

" _Well, good luck with that, Dean, I hope it works out for you."_

" _Thanks, I do too, I really do."_

" _And how's business?"_

They went on to talk about the stock market, finances, Dean's history with the company, but Cas had stopped listening. He was smiling as he painted the sun's golden rays onto the rippling ocean.

When Dean returned home, later than expected at six o'clock, Cas was unpacking Indian food from brown paper bags, arranging it on the coffee table with the TV on in the background. Dean snook up behind him and tapped him on the shoulder, making him jump and leaving Dean laughing.

Cas decided to laugh too, and gestured to the food. "I ordered dinner, I thought we could have a movie night."

Dean grinned and kicked off his shoes, loosening his tie and slapping Cas on the back heartily. "Thanks, Cas, I could do with a lazy night. The office got pretty hectic today, someone managed to erase a load of data from the computers that was pretty important and I had to clean up the mess."

"Did you manage to fix it?"

"Well I managed to get some of it back, but the rest is lost, which means I'm gonna have to re-write and process it all again, leaving me less time to meet my deadlines..."

Cas let Dean ramble on about his work, pushing his gently onto the sofa and handing him his dinner. As Dean began talking about the stock market and how he thought his boss was taking the company in the wrong direction, Cas selected an old cowboy movie from the shelf of DVDs, and hit play.

Three movies and two rounds of Indian food later, the millionaire and the artist sat side by side on the sofa, unconsciously leaning into each other, watching the end credits roll. A comfortable silence had fallen around them, and Cas saw his opportunity.

"You were really good in your radio interview this afternoon."

Dean grinned, blushing. "You tuned in?"

"Of course I did, I listened to the whole thing."

"You didn't have to do that, man."

"I wanted to."

Dean nodded still smiling, and looked down at his feet. "So, er, you heard the bit about Lisa?"

Cas nodded, and Dean sighed. "She called me afterwards, thanked me for the way I handled it. Asked about you."

"What did you say?"

"I said you were good. I said I really wanted you to stay." Dean cleared his throat. "You, er, heard me talking about my...interest?"

"Yes, I did. The one you really want to work out."

"Yeah that's right."

Silence. Dean's heart was beating a little too hard, and he wasn't sure what to say. To clear up any confusion, he muttered "You know I was talking about you, right?"

Cas grinned, and ducked his head, face reddening. "I hoped so."

"Do you want to talk about it "

Cas nodded, and Dean swallowed. "Ok. Well, like I said yesterday, I've liked you for a while, and I wasn't just using you for sex or as a rebound or whatever."

"I wasn't either." Cas saw Dean's face light up at that, and suddenly realised that Dean had probably been worrying as much as he had.

Dean continued. "I don't know what you want to happen, right now, and obviously it's not a decision for me to make, but I'd, er, I'd like to keep this going. I kind of like waking up next to you, I guess."

Dean blushed again, and scowled at the floor. When he had practiced this speech in his head he had been far more charming and convincing than he was coming across right now.

"I like waking up next to you too, Dean. I..." Cas stopped to take a deep breath, and closed his eyes. Courage. "I don't want to lose what I have with you. You've given me everything, you're annoyingly selfless, and you have made it very, very difficult not to fall in love with you."

Dean raised his eyebrows at the word love, and hid a grin. "So, you wouldn't mind being my boyfriend, then?"

Cas chuckled and sighed in relief. "No, I wouldn't mind."

"That's good, because I think I'm falling in love with you too." Dean said it without even thinking about it, and immediately regretted it. He looked to Cas, wondering if that was an ok thing to say, and saw the man launch for him, crashing their lips together and winding his arms around Dean.

Dean laughed into the kiss, pulling Cas closer to him, happiness making his stomach swoop. Cas was his boyfriend, his actual official boyfriend, not the homeless man he rescued two weeks ago, not the lost artist staying with him, not the man he slept with when they felt like it, his _boyfriend_. Despite being openly pansexual, Dean had never had a boyfriend, only a few drunken nights with men he'd met at bars following previous break ups. Thinking of this now, as Cas' lips moved against his and he felt the artist's fingers tangle in his hair, Dean wondered what Cas' sexuality was. Cas hadn't mentioned anything about preferences, or past lovers for that matter, but Dean couldn't believe that he was inexperienced. He certainly knew what he was doing.

Cas' head was spinning as Dean pulled him onto his lap, a laugh escaping his lips. Dean Winchester, the millionaire, his celebrity crush, his saviour, was now his boyfriend. Cas didn't understand how on earth someone like Dean could want someone like him, but he didn't wait to try and figure it out. Because now he could kiss Dean, run his hands through his hair, wake up every morning and let his face be the first thing he sees. And he couldn't wait.


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: Last happy, fluffy, carefree chapter guys, shit about to go /down/

The next few days passed in a blur for Dean and Cas. Cas sold another painting for an amount rendered him speechless, Dean worked twelve hours a day and came home to Cas' warm embrace. They had agreed to keep their relationship quiet for now; the papers were already attempting to find out who had stolen Dean Winchester's heart this time, and they had to be careful. Although Dean was eager to show off his new boyfriend, publicity wasn't what he needed right now. The company was falling under new management, and his boss happened to be openly homophobic. If Dean was seen with Cas, he'd lose his job for sure.

So, when they went out, Dean waved at the cameras, told the papers that his kindergarten best friend had recently travelled up from Illinois and was staying with him for a while. Cas gave a few awkward interviews - he was a travelling artist who was extremely proud of Dean's success, and was enjoying his stay. When they asked how long he was staying, Dean leaned forward and commented that they might move in together permanently, because hey, neither of them had ever had platonic roommates, and if Cas chose to stay in New York it would be awesome to have your best friend with you all the time. The media soaked it up, but were still on the look out for Dean's mystery lover.

Relief came in the form of Sam and Jessica Winchester, who appeared at Dean's door with a bottle of wine, beaming smiles, and their three year old tucked into their arms.

"It's so great to meet you, Cas," Sam walked over to the artist who was hovering awkwardly by the sofa. Cas extended a hand, but Sam laughed and smothered him in a hug.

"It's nice to meet you too, Sam," Cas muffled into his shoulder, and Sam clapped him on the back before moving away and letting Jess lean in and press a kiss to Cas' shaven cheek.

Cas was introduced to Alice, their daughter, who clung to her father's hand and hid behind his legs. Cas surprised everybody, however, by sweeping into a low, exaggerated bow, greeting her as "Princess Alice," and stating that it was an honour to meet her. The child giggled and stumbled forward, timidly shook Cas' hand, mumbling that it was actually _Queen_ Alice. Cas grovelled out an apology, begged for her humble forgiveness, and Dean decided that yes, he was definitely in love as laughter warmed the room.

Cas gave Alice a piece of paper and some gel pens, and Dean told her to go nuts. While she drew spirals and rainbows, sitting on the carpet, Dean handed around beers and leaned into Cas on the sofa.

"So, Cas, you're an artist?" Jess asked, placing a hand on Sam's knee.

Cas nodded, and pointed at the canvas behind the TV. "That's one I did earlier this week, Dean wouldn't let me sell it."

"I like it, of course you're not selling it."

It was the canvas of the beach that Cas had worked on while listening to Dean on the radio, and it had turned out rather well.

"Cas, that's amazing!" Sam grinned, and Jessica nodded in agreement. For a while they talked about Cas' art - who had inspired him, did he want to go to art school, who was his favourite artist….Dean sat back and watched the conversation flow, earlier nerves subsiding. He had worried that they wouldn't get along, but Sam was leaning forward, focused on the conversation, and Jess was smiling happily, nodding at various points and chuckling. Dean, at least, could relax.

"So Dean was your knight in shining armour, huh?" Jess asked, hours later as she helped Cas wash up the dishes. Sam and Dean were talking business in his office, and Alice was sprawled out on the sofa, 101 Dalmatians playing on the big screen.

Cas smiled. "Yes, you could say that."

Jess nodded. "Y'know, I think it's great that you've started getting into your art again. I mean, it would've been so easy to just sit back and take the shelter and the money, but you're really trying to stand on your own feet, without Dean's support. That's admirable, Cas, it's really admirable."

Cas beamed. "Thank you, Jess. I never asked, what do you do?"

Jess laughed. "Right now? I'm a stay at home mom, and I really love it. Sam earns enough to take the pressure off me, but when Alice is a little older I'll start working again. I used to be a fashion photographer."

"That sounds amazing!"

"It really was. I miss it sometimes." She glanced over to her daughter, and smiled. "On rainy days, when Alice plays dress up, she walks down the hall and I take pictures of her, like she's a model. We have fun, and the pictures are all over the house."

Cas chuckled. "She certainly is something."

"Do you want kids, Cas?"

Cas shrugged. "I'm not sure I'd be a good dad, but yes, I do. Not now, but one day."

Jess frowned. "Cas, there is not a doubt in my mind that you'll be a wonderful dad one day. You're great with Alice, she thinks you're amazing!"

"She's lovely."

With the dishes clean, they returned to the sofa, and Alice immediately demanded Cas' attention, asking him if he would draw her a castle.

"I could paint you one and you could pick it up when you visit next." Cas offered as the three year old climbed onto his lap.

She clapped happily and moved her attention to Cas' hair, patting it down with her hands and asking for a hairbrush. By the time the two brothers had finally made their way out of the office, Alice was sitting on Cas' shoulders, dragging a brush rather painfully through his hair, which was now littered with pink, purple, and yellow sparkly hairclips.

"Wow, Cas, you look great!" Dean exclaimed. "Did you get a haircut or something?"

"As a matter of fact, I did," Cas grinned. "Queen Alice seems to have a knack for hairdressing."

It wasn't long before Queen Alice fell into a deep slumber, head nustled into Cas' neck as the adults watched TV and sipped wine. Conversation filled the room and dispersed, like gentle waves, until Sam gave in to a loud yawn and Jess declared that they really should head home.

"It was great to meet you, man," Sam smiled sleepily at Cas as he took Alice off him. They shared a one-armed hug, and Jess pecked the artist on the cheek.

"Come visit sometime, ok?" She squeezed his arm, and Cas decided that yes, he'd like that.

Sam let Dean tussle his hair, laughing, and they leaned into each other. "Cas is great, Dean, I'm glad you found him. You look happier."

"I am, Sammy, thanks. We'll come visit some time."

Cas and Dean followed them down to the garage and stood outside to wave them off as they drove away, hands linked behind their backs in the dark. Rain started spitting down, and a cold breeze made them shiver. When Sam's car had disappeared around the corner, they turned to go back inside to the warmth of their bed.

Neither of them noticed the dark figure standing on the street corner, silently watching them as the rain poured down.


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: Sorry for the long wait, I was at summer camp! This is shorter and more rushed than it should be but I just wanted to get something up for you guys. The next chapter will be longer and better I swear, I'm back from camp now and have more free time to write! -Livy

For a week after that, everything was normal. Dean spent ten hours at work every day, Cas sold his paintings, and New York strolled calmly into November. The city began preparing itself for Christmas; carols drifted through the streets, decorations appeared in windows, shops sparkled with fairy lights.

Cas and Dean lived happily in their apartment, learning each other slowly, as they still had much to discover. As they danced in the kitchen to old Elvis songs, as they kissed by the fire on cold evenings, as they fell in love and created a life worth living, they were unaware of the danger that lurked close, out of sight.

It was a grey Thursday morning. Dean woke up with Cas nestled into his shoulder as usual, and kissed him awake. They rose together, shared the bathroom space, ate a quick breakfast and Dean hurried out the door, reminding Cas that tonight they were visiting the art gallery again. The door slammed shut behind him, and Cas set up an easel to distract himself from his loneliness.

He listened to Dean's car speeding out of the garage as he readied his paints. Sighing, he sketched an outline on his canvas. Two rival ballerinas, performing side by side in a small ballroom. Cas had been inspired to paint the dancers since Dean had taken him to see The Swan Lake Ballet performed at the nearest theatre. Cas was mesmerised by how they moved, so graceful and fluid, like it was all natural and not at all down to years of blood, sweat, and tears. He would try to capture their movements in his painting, their arching backs and flowing arms, delicate fingers and pointed toes. They had looked beautiful, and free.

For some time he worked on the piece, stopping briefly to make coffee before starting again, shading and shaping and erasing occasional errors. Had he not been so absorbed in the painting, perhaps he would have heard a familiar white car pull up outside the apartment. Perhaps then, he would have had time to drop his brush and run, to grab the phone and call Dean, to arm himself.

But Cas didn't notice the car pulling up. Cas didn't hear footsteps outside. His usual vigilance was diminished by the safety he felt in Dean's home. His home. It was only when he heard the click of the lock as it was picked that Cas froze, blood running cold.

Dean arrived back at the apartment at five, earlier than expected, and kicked off his shoes by the door. "Cas, I'm home!" He called out, voice echoing around the empty apartment. Lacking the extra layer of warmth from his coat, Dean shivered as he wandered through to the kitchen. Strange, Cas should've turned on the heating by now...

He turned around to squint through the early afternoon gloom at the living room, and felt his stomach churn. Cas' easel was lying sideways on the floor, pencils and paints scattered all around.

"CAS?!"

There was no reply, and Dean's blood ran cold as he raced through room after room, searching for any sign of him. Nothing. Cas' clothes were still there, neatly folded in drawers or on hangers. A cup half full of cold coffee sat on the breakfast bar, unmoved since that morning. But no Cas.

The room started spinning and Dean took a deep breath. No, there had to be a reasonable solution to this. There was no need to think the worst; obviously Cas had knocked over his easel and ran out to buy a replacement. He was always leaving cups of half-drank coffee around the apartment, that part wasn't cause for alarm. He probably hadn't been gone that long.

Dean was just beginning to bring his pulse down when he noticed Cas' shoes, still by the doorway where he'd kicked them off the night before.

In an instant, Dean was punching Sam's number into his phone, cursing under his breath as he remembered that of course, Cas didn't have a cell.

"Hi, this is Sam Winchester, I can't take your call right now but if you leave a message after the tone I'll get back to you asap."

"Sammy, it's Dean, I need your help. Cas is gone, it looks like there was a struggle in the apartment or something, his easel's in pieces but all his things are still here. Call me."

Next, Jess.

"Hey Dean, what's up?"

"Something's happened to Cas, is Sam with you?"

"Cas? What's happened, is he ok?"

"No, I don't know, is Sam there?"

"He's in a meeting, he'll be out in an hour. Dean, what's happened?"

"Cas is missing, it looks like someone took him."

"Took him? What do you mean? Are you sure he's not just-"

"He's not just out, his shoes and clothes are all still here and his easel is broken on the floor. He was in the middle of a piece, he wouldn't leave it, it looks like there was a fight."

From the other end of the line, he heard Jess gasp and a door close. "Jesus, have you called the police?"

"What for? A broken easel and a homeless guy gone missing?"

"Dean maybe they could help-"

"I don't have time to fill in police reports, Jess, Cas is in danger! Tell Sam to get over here as soon as he can, ok?"

"Dean-"

"Please, Jess."

Hanging up the phone, Dean swallowed the lump in his throat. He was right, the police wouldn't waste their time looking for a previously homeless adult in New York, even if it did look as though there had been a fight. He was on his own, for now.


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: Now that the server is finally letting me login, here's another crappy chapter. Enjoy!

The room they were holding him in was oddly familiar.

That was Cas' first thought when lightning flashed through a window in the far corner, illuminating the otherwise pitch black room.

He was chained to a cobbled wall opposite a padlocked door; he could feel the cold metal pressing into his wrists, and the heavy chains pulling his tired arms to a point just above his head. As lightning sparked again, Cas' stomach churned as he realised that that was also a familiar feeling.

He squinted to his left and, when the room was bright enough, examined the fireplace he was leaning against. It was old, ornate, and smaller than he remembered. He wasn't sure where it was from, or why he remembered it, but he did.

He tried to turn to his right, but his neck ached and he stopped, wincing in pain. Slowly, gingerly, he moved each limb, trying to assess where he was damaged. His neck was definitely throbbing, as was his right ankle and arm. He wrinkled his nose carefully and determined that it wasn't broken, but his blurred vision made him think at least one of his eyes was swollen. His lips stung when he licked them, and he suspected they were cut and cracked.

Suddenly, there was a noise from below, and Cas held his breath. Raised voices, a muffled argument in the room downstairs. After a minute or two a door slammed, and there was silence.

As Cas' heartbeat began to slow and he started to calm down from his initial panic, he leaned his head back on the wall and closed his eyes, which were burning with unshed tears. He'd known that his time with Dean had been limited, of course he had, but he'd hoped to spend a little more time with him before saying goodbye.

And oh how his heart ached when he thought of Dean, coming home from work and finding the apartment cold and empty. Cas should've told him, warned him, done something to prepare him for a situation just like this. But it was a conversation he hadn't wanted to have, and how do you bring it up? Telling Dean about his dangerous, manic family wasn't exactly breakfast material.

Cas' father had been the one to insist the children were brought up devoted to their religion. Their mother, although religious herself, had suggested that they don't enforce religion on them; let them learn and decide themselves. But their father had insisted, and religion was all they ever knew. Castiel had vague memories of raised voices coming from behind his father's closed bedroom door. The voices would grow louder and louder, there would be a loud sound and a scream, and then Michael would collect little Castiel up in his arms and hurry him away from it all, distracting him with goofy faces or sliding down the banister. The last time it had happened, Michael, Anna, Lucifer, Gabriel and Bartholomew had rushed all the children outside, and they had camped out in the woods for two days until someone was sent to collect them. A day later, it was their mother's funeral.

Castiel's father become even more distant at that point. Michael, eighteen, and Anna, seventeen, became the new heads of the family. Lucifer was also eighteen, ten months younger than Michael but clearly the favourite. He was the only one that seemed to get along with their father - until one night which Castiel would never forget.

 _It was a calm summer evening, a warm breeze fluttering through the house. Anna had made everyone Lemonade, the younger kids were asleep, and Naomi sat at the grand piano, filling the house with a sweet melody. A warm, sleepy atmosphere allowed any kids who were still awake to lounge in deckchairs are stare at the sky, not quite daydreaming but not quite asleep either. It was peaceful in the house; Castiel remembered wishing he could fly up to the candyfloss clouds, away from daily prayers and religious studies and bible readings, and just sit there for a while._

 _A crash broke the silence, the sound of china smashing, and the door of their father's study flew open upstairs, screaming voices making Naomi's hands freeze on the piano keys. Castiel and the others sat up and looked around, confused; who could father be fighting with if mother was gone?_

 _Michael and Anna sprang into action; Anna ran to Balthazar, barely four months old, and Michael sprinted up the stairs. Castiel remembered standing up, an uneasy feeling settling in his stomach, and Gabriel's hand pushed him gently back down. The voices got louder, there was the sound of glass shattering and seven year old Tessa screamed. Bartholomew and Gabriel ushered everyone into the sitting room, and Anna locked the door behind them._

 _The screaming continued for a while, then a door slammed. A minute later, the front door was opened, and it shut heavily. The next day, Michael explained that Lucifer had left for some time apart, and two weeks later, Lucifer was arrested for their mother's murder. His name was never brought up again._

Cas felt a lump in his throat at the memory. He didn't remember Lucifer being a particularly good brother, he was cold and distant, but he did remember him being devoted to their parents. And he didn't blame him for leaving, either.

When Cas had decided to leave, he first talked to Michael, who had warned him of the risks, and explained what had happened all those years ago.

 _"Castiel, I won't stop you from leaving, but I wish you'd think more about it. Lucifer left, and he's in prison, Gadreel left and now he's dead; people don't just get to leave this family. I don't know how much you know, but I think you've all figured out now that Mother's death wasn't an accident. You won't remember, but Father was becoming more and more controlling, and Mother had enough. When Balthazar was born she demanded that he be raised without religion, so that he might choose for himself when he was older. Dad didn't like that, but she wouldn't back down and there was a fight. In his anger...Castiel, our father is a dangerous man. When she died, Lucifer struggled to accept the truth, he couldn't believe our dad would do something like that. When he finally accepted the truth, he confronted dad about it, and dad framed him for the murder. Dad is powerful; you really think Gadreel died in a mugging? Cas, if you leave, he'll never stop looking for you, never, no matter where you run to or how long you hide. He will find you, and you'll either be dragged back here and locked up or much worse. Please, Castiel. Stay. Be safe. We've lost enough."_


	15. Chapter 15

_6:00am - alarm goes off for the first time._

 _6:15am - alarm goes off for the second time._

 _6:30am - alarm goes off for the third time._

 _6:45am - alarm goes off for the fourth time._

 _7:00am - alarm goes off for the fifth time._

 _7:15am - Dean calls in sick for work. Again._

"Jeez, Winchester, how much longer are you gonna sport this cold?"

"Sorry, Mr. Peters, I'll work from home."

"I wanna see you in here bright and early tomorrow morning, you understand? Cold or no cold."

"Right you are sir, I'm sure I'll be well enough by then."

"You better be. This company can't function without you, Dean."

Dean hung up the phone and threw it to the ground, rolling over and curling into his duvet. He squeezed his eyes shut, pulling the covers over his head. There was no way he was going back to work today. Or tomorrow, for that matter. Mr. Peters could do one.

It had been almost two weeks since Cas had gone missing, two weeks since Dean had stopped going to work. At first, it had been to find Cas; the thought of working while Cas remained missing was ridiculous, he was the priority, anyone could see that. But after the first week or so, Dean stopped getting out of bed every morning. It was too painful, waking up and missing Cas' gorgeous blue eyes blinking their sleepy hello. It hurt too much, pacing the cold, empty apartment, without hearing Cas' laughter booming from the sofa, or see him sketching at the table. So, with no leads to follow and nowhere else to look, Dean gave up.

Dean ignored the knock on his door at 8am, and the much louder knock at 8:15. He buried his head in Cas' pillow, blocking out the world, until eventually the covers were ripped from his grasp and cold winter air hit his bare skin, making his gasp and shiver.

"Up. Now. No excuses."

Dean groaned, and rolled over to watch Lisa's slender figure retreating into the lounge. For the first week it had been Sam who'd stayed with him, but the guy was busy; he had his own business to run, and a family to look after. Dean had sent him on his way, but being alone was too difficult. So, the next day, Lisa had arrived with a couple of bags and open arms, which Dean gladly fell into.

The press had had a field day, of course; a week after Dean's public announcement that his best friend and roommate, Castiel Novak, was missing (Sam's idea) his ex partner Lisa had been sighted - photographed, even - arriving at his apartment with luggage. Dean was beyond caring what they printed in the newspapers these days, and had refused to make any more appearances. So when he slithered into his dressing gown and stumbled into the kitchen to see a newspaper on the breakfast bar, he wasn't surprised to see the front page article:

"Power Couple Back In Action?: Ex partner Lisa Braeden was seen moving back into Dean Winchester's apartment shortly after his bff mysteriously disappeared as quickly as he arrived. Rumours that the couple have rekindled their love are already circulating, and the public are eagerly awaiting their statement."

Underneath was a picture of Lisa, with windswept hair and a tired expression, arriving at Dean's apartment. Rolling his eyes, Dean tossed the paper in the bin. Idiots.

"Hey, I was reading that!"

Dean shrugged at Lisa, who pushed him into a chair and handed him a plate of toast. "Eat that, then get washed and dressed."

"Why?"

"Because today you're going to tell the press what's going on, to stop articles like that being printed all over the country."

Dean frowned, pushing the toast away, and glared up at Lisa, who matched his cold gaze. "Why? I don't care what the papers say, and neither should you."

Lisa rolled her eyes. "Dammit, Dean, think about this. For one thing, it's affecting my image, and for another, how do you think Cas is going to feel if he sees this?"

Dean's heart jumped at the sound of Cas' name, and the clogs in his brain started whirring into action. If Cas thought that he'd gotten back together with Lisa, he might not come back if he gets the chance.

"You're right." Dean mumbled, and Lisa sighed, pushing the toast back towards him and picking up the phone. Dean reached out and poked her arm. "I appreciate you coming to stay. Thank you."

Lisa smiled, and rubbed his arm gently. "Well, someone's got to look after your sorry ass while you're moping around like an abandoned puppy. It's what friends are for."

Two hours later Dean found himself doing a telephone interview with a journalist from his least favourite paper. The paper who tended to get particularly nosey and find out all kinds of dirty little secrets that other papers couldn't get their hands on. Great.

"So, Mr. Winchester, what our readers would love to know is; what the hell is going on? Novak turns up, stays a few weeks, disappears, and suddenly you won't go to work. Your brother moves in temporarily, then your ex fiance!"

"Ex partner, we were never engaged. We never actually lived together, either."

"Details, details. So, what's the sitch?"

Dean clenched his jaw, but with a nod from Lisa started his story. "A few weeks ago a good friend of mine, Castiel Novak, came to New York to pay me a visit. He's a travelling artist, not well known but incredibly talented. I hadn't seen him in a while and offered him my spare room; why spend a week in a crappy motel when you could be catching up with your best friend, right? So he came to stay, around the time Lisa and I called it quits. He liked it so much in New York he said he wanted to stay, so I said it'd be cool to have him living with me. Now two weeks ago I came home from work and-"

"Excuse me, Mr. Winchester, but when Novak moved in were you and Lisa still together?"

"Yes we were."

"And how long into his stay did you break up?"

"Uh, actually it was probably around the first or second day. Why is this relevant?"

"Details, Mr. Winchester, details. Please continue."

Dean sighed. "Look, I came home from work around two weeks ago and Cas wasn't here. There were signs of a struggle in the apartment, so I called my brother. He arrived as fast as he cold and convinced me to make it public, in the hopes of finding him sooner."

"You were going to keep it a secret?"

Dean swallowed nervously. He had to tread carefully with this paper… "Look, Cas doesn't like being in the spotlight, and as it is I didn't think the cops would pay much attention to it. There isn't a lot to go on and he's a grown man - I didn't think they'd treat it seriously. Sam, my brother, told me that we had a better chance of finding him if the whole state knew to look out for him."

"For the record, Mr. Winchester, how would you describe your relationship with Mr. Novak?"

Dean's blood ran cold, and he exchanged a fearful look with Lisa, who's eyes popped. Surely not…

"My relationship?"

"Yes."

"With Cas?"

"That's right."

Lisa swore under her breath and stood, going to the fridge and grabbing two beers. Heart pounding, Dean glanced out of the window as he answered. "He's my best friend. We've become really close since he moved in, and I just want to know if he's ok."

"I see. What do you mean by really close?"

"I don't see how our relationship is relevant to him being missing. We're close, ok? I just want him found in one piece."

"What about Lisa Braeden? She's moved back in with you as quickly as she moved out."

"Like I said, she was never living with me."

"Right, right. So you two are back together then? How's that going?"

It was Dean's turn to swear. "Fucking hell, man, no we're not back together, and printing that in every paper in the city doesn't help anything."

There was a pause. "What do you mean by that, exactly, Mr. Winchester?"

Dean licked his lips nervously. "I just mean that it puts pressure on both of us. Lisa and I parted friends, and I've been struggling since Cas disappeared. Like I said, he means a lot to me and I'm not coping very well. My brother couldn't stay for long, so I reached out to Lisa, who's staying a few days to help me get back on my feet. No doubt she'll make sure I'm back at work tomorrow."

Lisa mimed sneezing from where she was standing by the fridge, and Dean caught himself quickly. "She's nursed me back from a cold and helped me keep on top of stuff. I owe her." The last thing he needed was Mr. Peterson suspending him for skiving work.

"I see. Well, thank you Mr. Winchester, this was very useful information. It should be printed tomorrow."

"Thanks, have a good day." Dean hung up the phone and took a deep breath, accepting a beer from Lisa.

"Something's not right, they know something," Lisa muttered, biting her lip. "They wouldn't ask about your relationship with Cas so specifically if they didn't have something to suggest you're more than friends, or at least question it."

Dean ran a hand through his hair. "Shit, if my boss finds out-"

"I know, I know."

Dean paced back and forth. "I'll have to deal with that later. Right now, I can't do anything until I get Cas back."


	16. Chapter 16

"Castiel!"

The soft voice that woke Cas was riddled with heartbreak and sorrow, and strangely joy. Gentle hands touched his bruised cheek and lifted his tired head up, and even in his circumstances Cas managed a genuine smile.

"Anna."

The red headed woman nodded, and smiled back. "It's good to see you, Castiel, although I wish the circumstances were different."

Cas chuckled, and then grimaced in pain. "Yes, this isn't quite the reunion I had in mind."

Anna's eyes brimmed with tears, and she cupped his cheek delicately. "Why did you have to leave, Castiel? Michael warned you this would happen; you're lucky to be alive!"

Cas shrugged, ignoring the shot of pain that travelled up his arm. "I couldn't stay here with that murderer any longer. All I wanted to do was study abroad, and he wouldn't even let me study locally. I had to leave."

"You could've stayed!"

"He gave me a choice, Anna; stay and become a Priest, like the rest of them, or leave and don't come back. So I left, and I guess he decided that that wasn't the choice he wanted me to make."

Anna blinked and shook her head, tears falling freely now. Castiel had never seen her cry. "He was furious," she whispered. "He never thought you'd go, and he was sure Gabriel had helped you escape."

Cas frowned. "Gabriel? All Gabriel did was wish me luck."

"That's not what Father thought."

Cas' stomach dropped, and he strained against the chains. "I want to see Gabriel."

Anna's shoulders shook with sobs. "Castiel..."

He felt a thump forming in his throat and his hands began to shake. "Anna, take me to Gabriel, I need to see Gabriel!"

It was then that Anna wrapped her arms around him, for the first time in years, and held his aching body as he cried into her shoulder. Cas cried for Gabriel, the brother he had always been closest to, the joker of the group who made him smile when he was down and put him in awe of his magic tricks, the innocent brother who protected him and loved him and only ever wanted what was best for him. Cas cried for the siblings he left behind in a house tainted with nightmares, the younger ones who had to grow up scared and alone and the older ones, who had to grow up too fast in order to protect the rest. Cas cried for his mother, the beautiful woman with the strawberry blonde hair who kissed him goodnight and tickled his stomach to make him smile.

Cas cried for Dean, the one he loved, needed, wanted the most in this world. Dean, who had no idea where he was or what had happened. Dean, who probably thought Cas had run away and left him, used him to get off the streets and earn enough money to leave again.

After a while, Anna pulled away and wiped his wet cheeks with the sleeve of her shirt. Cas studied her as she did this, and noticed how much she had changed since he'd been gone. She was thinner, narrow cheekbones making her pale face look long and tired. She was still beautiful though; dark red hair falling to her waist, soft pink lips hiding perfect white teeth, dazzling green eyes that Cas remembered so vividly. A diamond on her ring finger.

"I'm sorry, Cas," Anna whispered, drying her own eyes. "Gabriel never would've wanted this."

Cas shook his head, and changed the subject. "Who's the lucky man?"

Anna glanced down at her left hand and smiled. "His name is Travis, his father works with ours. We got married two years ago. It was arranged, but I love him now."

Cas nodded sadly. "Children?"

Anna laughed. "No, not yet anyway. I told him I didn't want to raise kids in this house, and he understands. He moved in after we got married. No doubt you'll meet him soon enough."

Cas' heart sank. "I'm not staying here, Anna, I can't. I have someone to go back to now, and a home."

At this, anger flashed in her eyes. "I'm well aware, Cas, as is everybody else in this damned house." Anna squared her shoulders and glared at him with a look that Cas remembered from his childhood. He and the younger ones had called it her "mom mode".

"I mean, really Castiel? You had to choose one of the most famous men in New York? Honestly I'm surprised Dad didn't find you sooner, you've been in the papers long enough and the rumours started flying pretty much straight away. You're an idiot, Cas."

"I know."

"It doesn't surprise me that you'd put yourself in that situation, but did you ever think about the kind of danger you put him in? You can't imagine the grovelling I had to do to Uriel to make sure they stayed away from him!"

"I'm sorry, Anna."

"And how long have you been on that bus, anyway? Are you trying to piss Dad off to the point where he has you killed? Never mind running away and moving in with a celebrity, but a _guy_?! I've never seen Father so angry, except for….that night."

Cas shrugged. "I love him."

Anna shook her head sadly. "Not anymore you don't. Castiel, you can't run away again, you just can't. It's too dangerous, for all of us. In a few days you'll be unchained and you'll have to face Dad yourself. Uriel and Raphael will be watching you 24/7, you're going to be sharing your room with Zachariah, who definitely won't let you out of his sights."

"Anna, you have to help me!"

"There's nothing that can be done, Cas! For Christ's sake, just stay here! We've lost too many people, innocent people."

Cas gulped. "Who else?"

Anna closed her eyes, and Cas reached for her hand. "Gabriel, a week after you left. Samandriel tried to follow after you, and spent a week in chains. He tried again last year, and was caught. Lucifer is still in prison, and you know what happened to Gadreel. Tessa…"

"No, not little Tessa!"

"Tessa confronted Father about it, all of it, face to face in his office. I'm glad you weren't here to witness it...the screams…"

"Where is she? Is she alright?"

Anna shook her head, swallowing back tears. "The things he did to her...she couldn't go on living in the same house with him. He...he's sick, disgusting...it just kept happening, more and more often. I tried breaking down the door, she screamed herself hoarse, but that didn't stop him. She killed herself last year."

Overcome with guilt and nausea, Cas leaned away from his sister and took a deep breath. What kind of chaos had his leaving caused? How could he have been so selfish as to leave his siblings behind with that monster?

"What about you and Naomi and Hannah? He didn't touch any of you, did he?"

"No, he never got the chance. He tried locking Hannah in his office once but Balthazar's a clever little thing, and Dad's favourite. He started screaming about a pain in his head, faked passing out, and Dad ran out and fussed over him long enough for me to get Hannah out. I told him she'd gone to pick up some groceries and he was too worried about Balthazar to go after her."

"He's a monster."

"I know."

"He needs to be stopped."

Anna went rigid, and glanced behind her at the closed door. "What are you saying?"

Castiel swallowed, and lowered his voice to a whisper. "Anna, there are enough of us to do something about this. You, me, Michael-"

"Forget it, Cas!" Anna snapped, stepping back from her brother and shaking her head. "It's too dangerous, you'll get us all killed. You got three years of blissful freedom, and that's more than any of the rest of us. You're home now, get used to it."

"Anna, wait, please!"

"I'm sorry, Castiel. I really am. But this is your life now. Start living it."

With that, Anna walked away, ignoring Cas' cries and the tears burning her eyes. She slammed the door closed, throwing her brother into darkness once more.


	17. Chapter 17

"Welcome home, Castiel."

The voice was cold and stern, no sign of a real welcome anywhere. Castiel rubbed his sore wrists, glad to be unshackled but not so glad to be standing where he was. He had only ever stepped foot in his father's office once in all his twenty two years at that house. He'd been young, maybe seven years old, and was acutely aware of the fact that his father's office was strictly out of bounds, no matter what. If they needed him, they were to knock three times and wait patiently. If there was no answer, they were to come back in half an hour. That rule had been drilled into him time and time again as he was growing up; by his father, his mother, his older siblings. He himself had taught it to the younger ones, and none of them questioned it, or ever broken the golden rule. Except, of course, for when baby Tessa had started choking and mother was out shopping.

Panic had ensued; Michael and Lucifer were only thirteen, Anna twelve, and they had no idea what to do. There was arguing, screaming, tears streamed down their faces as Tessa slowly turned blue. Castiel hadn't needed to think. Pushing past his older brother, he sprinted up to the third floor and burst into his father's office without hesitation. There were hurried footsteps behind him and arms caught him around the waist, trying to drag him out, shouting apologies at their dad, but Castiel had screamed louder.

" _DADDY TESSA'S STOPPED BREATHING!"_

Later, Castiel had received a pat on the back from his father, and was praised as a hero throughout the household. Tessa had survived thanks to his quick thinking and selflessness.

Now, stood in that same office all those years later, Cas could barely stop himself from launching at the man who stood before him. He had aged well, and still carried an air of daunting authority and sophistication about him. He stared at Castiel with harsh grey eyes, and Cas glared back.

"This isn't my home."

The man sighed slightly, and rolled his eyes. "Castiel, please, let's not row. I've taken time out of my busy schedule to welcome you back with open arms-"

"I've been locked up in that disgusting cellar for _two weeks_ and you've only just gotten around to me? Even for you, that's low."

"I didn't bring you here to argue with you."

"Let me go, then."

His father stood up from his armchair and walked across, eyes roaming over him, inspecting him. "You're here to stay, and that's the end of that discussion. You should be thanking me; I've taken you back in with open arms, I even left your toy boy alive and well back in New York. What more do you want?"

Cas shook his head, lip curling in disgust. "You can't keep us all locked up here like animals! We're people, with dreams and ambitions and wishes! You'd rather us all be dead than live our own lives?"

The old man smiled coldly, and shrugged. "You have everything you need right here, Castiel; why would you ever want to leave?"

Cas recognised that line from the night he'd begged to be allowed to study abroad, and he clenched his jaw, anger bubbling just beneath the surface. "You can't keep me here, I'm an adult; we all are! This isn't a home, this isn't a family, it's a prison!"

"I'm only doing what's best for-"

"What's best? What's _best_?" Cas' hands shook, and he took a deep breath. Getting angry probably wasn't the wisest idea in his current situation. "You can't do what's best for us because you don't know us. Keeping as many of us locked up here as possible isn't what's best for us. If you wanted what's best for us then you'd let us go our own way."

His father turned away from him then, returning to his desk and beginning to scrawl out a letter. Without looking up, he raised his voice slightly. "Your lessons start at 9am sharp tomorrow, you've got a lot of catching up to do. As for joining the Priesthood, Michael will teach you everything you need to know and you should be ready by New Year."

"I'm not-"

"Breakfast is still at 8:15am, you know where the dining room is, don't be late, I can't stand tardiness."

"Father-"

"Your room is untouched but I don't think you've quite earned the right to take it up again just yet so you can stay in the basement for now."

"I'm _not_ staying here-"

"YES YOU ARE!" His father exploded, chair tipping over as he stood angrily and marched over to where Castiel stood by the door, frozen, suddenly a little boy again.

"I WILL NOT TOLERATE ANYMORE DISOBEDIENCE, CASTIEL!" His father screamed, red in the face. He shoved Cas, who's back hit the wall behind him with a painful thud.

"If you put so much as a toe out of line," the man continued, dragging Castiel back up by his throat. "You precious toy boy will suffer for it." He landed a punch on Cas' cheek, leaving his head spinning. "Have I made myself perfectly clear?"

The door opened, and Uriel stepped in, grabbing Cas by the arm and hauling him to his feet. Their father muttered some instructions and Cas was dragged from the room. An extra pair of hands grabbed him, Raphael, and he was taken back to his prison. The chains were locked around his wrists again, his feet kicked out from underneath him.

"Nice to see you, Cassie," Uriel sneered, yanking his brother's head up by a fistful of hair. "Long time no see."

"Uriel...please…"

"We'll come and wake you for breakfast in the morning." Raphael's cold voice came from the doorway. "I can't say you'll get a warm welcome."

With that, both brothers strode out of the basement, slamming the door behind them. Castiel heard a key turn in the lock, and closed his eyes. His head throbbed, his jaw ached, his back

was sore, his arms and legs felt like lead. Too tired to cry, or even think, he slipped into unconsciousness, leaving reality behind for a few blissful hours.


	18. Chapter 18

_**BILLIONAIRE TYCOON CAUGHT RED HANDED: DEAN WINCHESTER CAUGHT ON CAMERA GETTING UP CLOSE AND PERSONAL WITH ROOMMATE CASTIEL NOVAK.**_

The phone didn't stop ringing all day. Cameras flashed outside the windows of Dean's apartment, voices called out his name until they were hoarse and croaky, news channels had the scandal up front and central in their programmes. Dean stayed inside, blinds shut, doors locked, a copy of the dreaded newspaper sitting on the kitchen table from where Lisa had been reading it earlier.

"Listen to these bastards!" She'd gasped, nose buried in the article. "'In a recent exclusive telephone interview (transcript on page 45), Mr. Winchester claimed that his pining for his lost roommate was purely platonic. However, these scandalous photos outside their luxury apartment on the outskirts of the city show otherwise.'"

Dean was sitting on the sofa, flicking through a car magazine. Bored. He'd lost his job, of that he was pretty sure. Cas was still nowhere to be found, and now the entirety of New York City was reading up on his -

"'Secret gay affair with street rat Castiel Novak, wannabee painter and golddigger. A love story better than Aladdin, only this time no magic genie can bring the two back together.' Are you hearing this shit?" Lisa had yelled from the table, throwing the newspaper back down with a thud and storming off to the bathroom, ranting and raving about the ridiculous laws on journalism and how privacy is an illusion these days, and that you make a damn good Jasmine, Dean.

Dean raised a beer to his lips and drained the contents of the bottle, sighing as he placed it back down on the coffee table. He felt empty. His boss hadn't managed to get a message through to him yet, what with the nonstop harassment from the press, but there was no doubt about it. Dean's time at the company was over. Tomorrow, he'd be clearing out his desk.

If he'd been here, Cas would've rubbed his shoulders and told him that Dean wasn't losing anything, the company were. If Cas had been there, he would've told Dean that the company would be begging for him back within a matter of weeks, completely at Dean's mercy. Cas would've told him to think of it as a well earned vacation, a holiday. Maybe even suggested going away for a week or two.

But Cas wasn't there, and Dean was sat alone in a cold apartment with the whole of New York demanding an explanation. He had no idea where the pictures had come from, and after several hours of intense thinking, he decided he didn't care. They had been taken outside Dean's apartment, late at night when they'd been arriving home from the movies. The first photo showed Dean walking to open the passenger seat door for Cas; perfectly innocent. The second was a little different, and Dean remembered the night well. Cas' head poked out of the open window of the car, leaning out and catching Dean's smile with his lips as Dean reached for the door handle. The third photo was captured seconds later, showing their deepened kiss, and the final photo showed Dean towing Cas into the apartment, hand in hand. There was no arguing it down to interpretation; they'd been caught.

"I should probably go," Lisa said quietly, emerging from the bathroom and leaning in the doorway, staring at Dean pitifully. "Sam's on his way, and my being here will only make things worse."

Dean nodded, eyes fixed on the blank TV screen. He didn't react when Lisa walked over and planted a kiss on the top of his head, or when she told him to keep her in the loop, or when she walked out the door and battled through the hungry press to her car.

Dean didn't react when the doorbell started ringing an hour later. He didn't react to the sound of a key turning in the lock and the door squeaking open, or the lights flickering on. He didn't react to the sound of shoes being kicked off, or to the footsteps on the wooden floor. He didn't even look up when a hand fell gently on his shoulder.

"Cas wouldn't want you to lock yourself away like this."

Dean shrugged, and said in a dull, monotonous voice "Cas isn't here."

His brother's grip on his shoulder tightened. "He will be soon. But we can't do anything if you won't even get dressed of a morning. So come on; get showered and dressed, Jess is bringing Alice over in about an hour, and then we're gonna fix this."

Cas would've been proud at the way Dean pulled himself back together. After making a plan with Sam and Jess, Dean called his office and, at the request of his fuming boss, handed in his resignation. He then dressed in his best suit and stepped outside, into the sea of flashing cameras, to give a formal statement.

Before nearly two hundred journalists, and with Sam by his side, Dean told the truth. He told the world about how he took Cas in from the streets as an act of kindness, how this triggered his break up with Lisa and how he and Castiel eventually came together as a couple. Dean came out publically as pansexual, explained how his rather homophobic boss had encouraged his prompt resignation after the papers the previous morning. He made it clear that he felt his privacy had been violated, and that he would in fact be making a complaint to the newspaper in question. He then gave Cas' description again, and stated that despite all this, his main priority was still to find Cas and bring him home. He would not be taking any questions just yet.

Back at the apartment, Sam threw his brother a beer. "That was brave, Dean, well done. I'm proud of you."

Dean shrugged, chugging the beer, and Sam rolled his eyes, strolling into Dean's office to check his overflowing inbox. Dean remained in the kitchen, trying to enjoy the beer in his hand and ignore the dreadful feeling that his life would never be the same again.

Sam smiled sympathetically. "Dean, we'll find him, I promise."

"What if he doesn't want to be found?" Dean voiced the fear that had been brewing in his mind for a long time. "What if he wasn't taken; what if he left?"

Sam shook his head and took Dean's beer bottle away from him. "That's not like him, Cas was happy here. He would've talked to you first-"

"I only met the guy like a month ago, Sam!" Dean almost laughed at the realisation. "I can hardly say I know him!"

"But you _do_ know him, Dean." Sam sat down next to his brother and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Don't underestimate how strongly he felt about you. Anyone could see he was crazy about you. One way or another, he'll come home."


	19. Chapter 19

A/N: GUYS IM ALIVE

Bear with me I've just moved into University BUT I am determined™ to get updating more often. Enjoy!

Castiel's room remained exactly as it had been when he'd closed the door on it three years earlier. A thick layer of dust had settled over the carpet, the bed, the wardrobe, everything. The curtains were tied open, a cold winter's sunset leaking through the window and highlighting the dust molecules floating calmly through the air. Nothing had changed.

Standing in the doorway, a hundred memories hit Castiel like a brick. Building a fort with Anna and Michael out of bed sheets and pillows, helping his mother paint the walls a gentle shade of yellow, leaning out of the window with Gabriel by his side, spitting apple pips on the heads of their siblings who wandered past down below, Lucifer begrudgingly checking under his bed for monsters at night, and scaring him by pretending to be pulled under. Hiding under the bed from his father's loud, angry voice. His mother lightly pushing him through the doorway and hearing her lock him in as the sound of shattering glass travelled through the halls.

Lump in his throat, Cas took a step forward, watching the dust billow up around his feet. He really had liked this room, kept it in a beautiful mess that his mother had fondly called organised chaos, wasted no time in making it his own. It had come to him on his sixth birthday, his father stating that he was too old to be sharing with Gabriel anymore. At first, the brothers had shed tears; they didn't want to be separated, didnt want to grow up. But Cas had loved the room as soon as he'd seen it, and his fondest blurred memories of his mother were inside those four yellow walls.

"Untouched, per father's request." Uriel growled from behind him, dragging him back to reality. Cas shook his head slightly and took another step forward, memories hitting him left right and centre. Standing there on the once white carpet, now smothered in dust, it felt as though he had never left.

"You're on trial here, Castiel," Uriel continued menacingly. "One wrong move and you'll be moved back to the basement, understand?"

Castiel turned, ignoring the sharp pain in his neck, and glared at his brother in disgust. "You really call us family?"

Uriel chuckled. "You're no brother of mine, Castiel. You always were too away with the fairies for my liking. Personally, I'm hoping father has you thrown back out on the streets, or maybe he'll let me get my hands on you. I'm still trying to persuade him, I'll let you know how it goes."

Cas frowned. "You weren't introduced to the Priesthood, were you, Uriel?"

Uriel shook his head, a sly smile curling his lips. "I was at first, but I managed to persuade Father that my talents lie elsewhere." He cracked his knuckles, and shrugged. "Gotta have some kind of security around here, stop the younger ones from following in your footsteps."

Cas felt the urge to spit in his brother's face, but he took a deep breath and steadied himself. "You won't be able to hold them forever, Uriel, you know that."

"We'll see, Castiel, we'll see."

Uriel turned and walked away, slamming the door behind him and making Castiel double over, coughing through the dust and struggling to jimmy open the old window. Looking out of the window onto the enormous estate his father owned, frost glistening on the grass in the fading sunlight, Cas felt oddly content. He detested being home, of course he did, it was worse than prison; but he hadn't felt this close to his mother in a long time. Her presence hovered close over him, something he hadn't felt since he was last in his room. Outside of the four walls he was now trapped in, it was easy to forget the most important woman in his life. But here, in his childhood bedroom, she was everywhere.

She was hanging his clothes up in his wardrobe, humming an old Beatles song, light bouncing off her face and making her blue eyes sparkle. She was sat at his desk, helping him write letters, one arm wrapped tightly around his shoulders. She was leaning out of the window on a hot summer's day, laughing and waving as her other children ran around outside. She was tucking him into bed, smiling down at him like an angel, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead and wishing him sweet dreams.

A tear trickled down Cas' cheek, and he buried his head in his hands. Somehow, he would get them all out of here. He owed it to her, at least.


	20. Chapter 20

A/N: Aloha friends, sorry for the long wait but as it turns out Uni is VERY demanding lmao. Also I got myself a boyfriend so if you're wondering what I'm doing while I'm not updating, it's him.

OK BACK TO THE SHIT STORY SORRY FOR KEEPING YOU WAITING ILY

Time crept slowly onwards, covering New York in a thick blanket of snow and Christmas cheer. It was the end of November, meaning that hearty carols and children's laughter filled the air. A time that was, generally, full of love and happiness. Not, however, for everyone.

It was the 29th of November. Dean Winchester sat alone on his couch, empty beer bottle in hand, staring blankly into the darkness. It was nearly midnight, and once again he couldn't sleep.

They had no new leads on Cas' whereabouts, nothing to go on, nowhere to look. Sam was forcing everyone to stay positive; something will turn up, there must be some kind of explanation. And although Dean really did try to soak up the positive vibes, his bed was still empty and cold every night, and he had given up all hope.

The media was still all over the scandal of famous Dean Winchester's affair. Some papers focused on the juicy gossip surrounding his sexuality; what did it mean, exactly? How many other gay affairs had he covered up? What did Lisa think? Do you, dear reader, still have a chance with New York's sexiest man?

Other papers took a more helpful angle, printing Cas' details and keeping the search going, applauding Dean for his courage and strength throughout this difficult time. And the Financial Times wrote page after page on Dean's failing company, how there were dark days ahead, and if Mr. Winchester didn't save them soon, they'd be bankrupt by Christmas.

Ultimately, Dean found he didn't much care for the wellbeing of his old industry. They'd been quick to offer him his job back, buckling under the financial struggle and bad press. Dean had turned it down, several times, and had eventually stopped taking their calls. Sure, it would be sad to see the company go down after everything he'd put into it, but Cas had never seen him as a finance kind of guy anyway.

So instead of getting into the local festivities, Dean once again found himself moping about the house day in, day out, waiting for something. Anything. He checked the papers every morning in case of possible sightings, listened to the afternoon news on the radio and flicked through various news stations in the evening, looking for the channel that would declare Cas safe and sound. No channel ever did though, and so Dean found himself pacing the apartment late at night, scribbling down new desparate ideas; places to search, people to ask, places Cas would've gone.

Several times, Dean had considered trying to contact the Novaks, in case they could help with the search. However, something was holding him back. He knew Cas wasn't his family's number one fan, and going off what he knew it was a tense family to be a part of. But something was just putting him off. Maybe because Cas always looked so much older, tireder, sicker, when he spoke of his family, or maybe because when Dean asked about his childhood Cas' face would go pale and he would mutter something about it being standard, unimportant, before turning to hide behind his easel. No, Dean had a gut feeling that Cas wouldn't appreciate getting his family involved.

"Well, what else do you know about them?" Sam had asked when Dean had voiced this worry to him one afternoon before a radio interview. Dean had shrugged. "I know Cas didn't get along with them. He used to talk in his sleep, something about his old man…"

"Maybe they would be able to give us the names of a few places Cas could be?" Sam had pressed, scratching behind his ear with a pencil and watching Alice and her friend Katy playing by the TV. But Dean had shook his head. "Cas was homeless by choice, Sam. They can't be anything but bad news."

As Dean recalled the conversation held with his brother almost a month ago, he felt the weight of dread sink to the bottom of his stomach and settle there. Cas would never run back to his family, and would never return to their lifestyle willingly, that much he'd made clear. _But why?_

Without realising what he was doing, Dean made his way through the apartment to the office and loaded up his computer. It just didn't make any sense...Cas was the most patient, tolerant person he knew. What the hell did his family do to make him choose a life on the road over his own flesh and blood? And more importantly, why hadn't Dean asked these questions earlier?

His mind whirring, Dean typed _Novak, Illinois_ into the search engine, and scanned the results eagerly. There were a few articles linking the Novak family with their Priesthood, listing all of their religious contributions and the active role they had in the community. Scrolling through, Dean paused with the mouse hovering over an image on the front page of an article. Six young boys stood outside a church, wearing overalls or dungarees, and holding tools, smiling big toothy grins at the camera. Their father, presumably, stood behind them, a hand on the shoulder of the oldest boy, who looked to be perhaps ten years old. However, it was the youngest boy who interested Dean. No older than five, the boy held the hand of a brother barely older than him in his right hand and a small hammer dangled from his left, the left brace of his dungarees falling slack down past his shoulder. He was staring with a look of wonder at a point just beyond the camera, lips parted in a slight smile and a smudge of dirt across his right cheek. Dean couldn't help but smile. Even as a child, Cas stood out against his statue-like siblings and stern, unsmiling father. The caption below the photo read:

 _ **Daddy's Little Helpers: The Novak boys help their father and the rest of the community to make repairs to the old village church.**_

So Cas hadn't been exaggerating about the religion thing. Dean bit his lip and clicked off the article, scrolling down, looking for something that would give him a head start, that would settle the uneasy feeling in his stomach. More articles popped up; the births of Cas' younger siblings announced in the local paper, the money they all raised for the church, or for some sort of charity. Getting bored, Dean was about to turn off the computer and retire to bed, defeated, when he found it.

 _ **Tragedy Strikes For Local Family: Beloved Wife and Mother Found Dead In Family Home.**_

Clicking on the old report, Dean familiarised himself with the details of the death of Cas' mother. She had been found in the woods behind the house, with a broken arm and a bruised, swollen neck at a sickening angle. There were signs of a fight; broken fingernails, bruising on her arms and torso, scratches here and there. It was reported as a murder, for sure, and the police launched an immediate investigation. That was where it got interesting. Scrolling down, Dean discovered the final article covering the incident.

 _ **BREAKING NEWS: Lucifer Novak Found Guilty of Murdering Mother In Cold Blood.**_

Dean's mouth dropped open in shock as he learnt the cold hard facts. Damning evidence against Lucifer had been supplied by his own father, who was _"devastated, heartbroken, and in shock."_ There was a photo of the entire family at the bottom of the article, and Dean felt a pang of sadness. Cas' mother was beautiful, not looking at the camera but smiling down at one of her youngest, and clearly adored by all her children. Their father stood behind her, stoic and emotionless, the complete opposite of his wife. No children stared lovingly at him as the photograph was taken.

Dean shut off the computer, feeling uneasy, and began to pace. He didn't blame Cas for staying quiet about his past; the whole ordeal must have been traumatising, losing your mother to a sibling like that. But something felt off, Dean didn't know what, but something wasn't right. Whenever Cas spoke of his father it was with the deepest hatred in his eyes. Maybe he blamed him for his mother's death in a way.

Dean wanted, no, needed answers. His mind settled, he returned to the computer and, after a little research, started writing up an email that would get him in a lot of trouble.


End file.
